Getting to love you
by Kuri333
Summary: He was interesting, she was kind, they were getting closer through shared moments and hidden looks. Anna and Mr Bates, series 1, between episodes 2 and 5. Sequel to "And so it begins"
1. The Return

**AN:** Sequel to "And so it begins". This one covers from the end of episode 1 to episode 4 in series 1.

All characters and places belong to J. Fellowes.

* * *

"What are you laughing about." Gwen's question made her jump back to the present and the duvet both of them were carefully placing over Lady Sibyl's bed.

"Oh, it's nothing," Anna said, but a chuckle undid her words.

"Go on! I'd like to have a reason to laugh, too."

"It's O'Brien. I was just remembering the look of her when she saw Mr Bates coming back and it was obvious he would not be leaving after all."

Gwen chuckled. "I wish I'd been there."

"She looked as if somebody had put salt on her tea," Anna grinned.

"You mean, more than usual?" both girls giggled.

"It is odd though, isn't it?" Gwen said after a while, taking a bundle of sheets and exiting the room, followed by Anna who was carrying the used candles.

"What's odd?"

"His coming back," Gwen spoke much quieter this time. The corridors were hardly suited for having private conversations.

Anna thought about it, while entering the servants' stairs. She really had no idea of the reason, and having been so happy about seeing him back, she had forgotten to ask him how had that been possible, when they had spoken about his leaving only the night before, and he had been carrying back his suitcase when she had bumped into him. Truth to be told, though, she was not sure if she would had dared asking him, even if she had thought of it.

What was it about Mr Bates that some of the most natural questions seemed to be too intrusive to ask?

They were hardly the only members of the staff curious about it. Anna smiled again, on her way to the laundry rooms, remembering Mr Bates, entering the kitchens as if it was just a regular day and he had only taken his suitcase for a walk. He had greeted everybody in there with his usual "Good morning" and then, apparently oblivious to the stares, he had sat in his usual place, right in front of O'Brien. Anna's eyes had been fixed on her, and her expression had been something that, she was sure, would cheer her up in days to come.

"So you're staying, then?" Mrs Patmore had asked, blunt as usual.

"I am," Mr Bates had nodded.

"Good," the cook had muttered on her way back to the kitchens.

O'Brien had made a funny noise with her throat.

Oh how she hated being outsmarted. It was nothing, Anna had thought, sitting next to Mr Bates and reaching for a cup of tea as well, even though she had not been supposed to have had free time at the moment. Her discomfort and her anger were nothing compared to the humiliation Mr Bates had had to endure before of her. Well, it was a consolation nonetheless.

Not long after they had taken their seats, O'Brien had left without a word.

Anna had glanced to her left and had seen Mr Bates grinning into his cup.

"Cat caught her tongue," he had whispered.

"Poor cat," Anna had retorted.

"Indeed."

It wasn't until mid afternoon that Anna saw her again, this time talking to Thomas in the courtyard, smoking. It was too good an opportunity to miss, and although a loud voice in her head was screaming about how nothing good could come from eavesdropping, she decided to ignore it and came as close to the couple as she dared.

"- does not make much sense, does it?" O'Brien was sneering.

"No. But he's back anyway," Thomas said shortly. He looked thoroughly downcast; Anna had not realised how important the post had been for him. Or maybe it was just the fact that his plans had not worked?

"There's something we're missing," O'Brien spoke again. "What did Lord G said exactly?"

"That's it, isn't it?" Thomas snapped. "I was at the door, I couldn't hear. The Duke was in the car, Bates too, and the chauffeur had driven them a couple of yards when Lord Grantham just decided to run after them."

"Run?" the Lady's maid pus as much contempt in the word as humanly possible.

"Travis pulled over and he caught up with them," Thomas ignored it. "And then Bates was coming down with his suitcase and-"

"And five minutes later he was having tea in the kitchen," O'Brien finished.

Thomas just nodded and took a long drag from his cigarette. Anna was about to come back inside when he spoke again. "I heard what he said to Carson, though."

"What was it?"

"'It wasn't right, Carson'. That's what he said."

O'Brien huffed and threw the butt of her cigarette to the ground. Anna turned around and left, as quietly as she could. She felt suddenly warm with gratitude towards Lord Grantham.


	2. The Test

Mr Carson had a nice room to himself, which served both as an office and as a pantry of sorts. Bates had seem him doing small handiworks that were needed in there, but mostly he would sit on his desk, carefully taking note of what was being consumed by the household or what needed to be done that was not under Mrs Hughes administration.

When the butler had asked him very politely if he would join him in his office after his Lordship had retired for the night, Bates had felt a shadow of trepidation.

Had he done something wrong? Was he going to hear his staying at Downton had been threatened again by his limp?

Unnecessarily checking that his waistcoat was properly buttoned and his tie perfectly centred he knocked on the door and waited for Mr Carson's reply to enter.

The butler was sitting behind his desk, a notebook opened in front of him and, in his hand, his quill was still damp.

"Would you want me to come on another time, Mr Carson?"

"Not at all, Mr Bates. Please, take a sit."

Mr Carson busied with the quill and papers for a moment before standing up and walking towards a small cabinet next to the door. From inside he took a bottle and two small glasses.

"Would you like some port, Mr Bates?"

"No, Mr Carson, thank you." He said, and had the feeling it had sounded almost rude. "I do not drink," he added.

Mr Carson looked at him for a moment and then took his glass and resumed his sit on the table.

"I wanted to ask you about something."

Bates raised his eyebrows. Now that it seemed that whatever reason he was there, it was not to blame him for anything, he was starting to feel curious.

"As you might have gathered from local gossip," Mr Carson's grimace of disgust made it perfectly clear what he thought about gossip, "the tragic losses of Mr James and Mr Patrick on board of the Titanic are of most relevance for the succession on this state."

"I've heard Mr Patrick was the heir," Bates said cautiously.

"Indeed. Now new arrangements have been made." Again, it was obvious Mr Carson did not approve. "Which means that His Lordship's third cousin and his mother will be coming to stay at Crawley House down in the village."

Bates nodded politely, still not sure why was the butler telling him all that. He had heard enough of it from O'Brien's sneers and the rest of the staff; they were naturally wondering what sort of people this solicitor from Manchester and his mother could be.

"The thing is, Mr Bates, I would like you opinion on a matter. I am currently tasked to open and settle Crowley House. For that, we need proper staff."

Uneasiness crept over Bates. Surely Mr Carson was not considering him to leave Downton and start afresh in this new house. And then, would that be so bad? Yes, a voice in his head said decisively. It would be bad and there were a number of reasons why. One of them sat next to him during meals.

"I had one possible option for butler and valet," Mr Carson kept on going, oblivious to the argument inside the other man's head. "It's a local fellow named Joseph Molesley." Bates raised his eyebrows again. "He said you two know each other."

"We do, as a matter of fact. We were footmen together, long ago."

"Indeed," Mr Carson said. "I was in favour of hiring him until I got a second offer. Thomas offered to take that post and leave his."

"Thomas? This Thomas?"

Mr Carson nodded. "He asked me to consider him."

"Well," Bates sighed. "As far as I know, he had always wanted to cease being a footman and endeavour in more important occupations," he was fighting to keep his voice neutral.

"That's what I've gathered," Mr Carson practically grunted.

He did not speak for a moment and Bates did not know if he should ask what this was about.

"What do you think, Bates?" the butler finally spoke, and it did not escape him the more informal use of his name.

"About hiring…?"

"Should I hire Mr Molesley or should we consider our own Thomas for the post?"

Bates tried his best to hide a sigh.

"I do not know if I am best suited to answer you, Mr Carson. I have no experience in hiring or firing people, least of all for a post that surpasses my own."

Mr Carson looked at his port thoughtfully.

"That might be true, and yet I would like to know your opinion."

"I have some difficult giving you that," Bates said. He was sure that if he was to start talking about Thomas, nothing good would come from that. "Unless… could I be honest, Mr Carson?"

"That's what I'd like the most."

"Molesley and I share some history, if not really a friendship. I wish him well, and I suspect this position would be an improvement of whatever conditions he is finding himself into at the moment."

Mr Carson nodded but did not elaborate.

"Thomas, on the other hand… I find it difficult to take a liking of him."

"You're not the only one."

"Right," this time Bates allowed himself a small smile. "I would be lying if I was to say I would be devastated of seeing him leaving."

Mr Carson nodded again.

"So, you see, Mr Carson, I am not the right man to give you an opinion on the matter, for I have personal interests on both accounts. I am too biased."

The butler stayed silent again, and Bates could feel the time stretch. This was not the first time he wished he had a glass of something in his hand, if only for having something to do. He tried to put the thought aside, it was no good to dwell in that past.

"I thank you for your honesty, Mr Bates." Mr Carson finally spoke.

"I am very sorry I was useless."

"I would not put it quite that way."

Something in his voice told Bates he was being dismissed. "If there is nothing else…"

Mr Carson waved a hand. Bates stood up and his hand was on the doorknob when the butler spoke again.

"I must say," he cleared his throat, "I am glad His Lordship stopped you from leaving. I had my doubts at first, but now I'm glad."

Bates nodded, wildly considering he could be imagining things. "Thank you," he finally managed, before exiting the office and closing the door at his back.

He had the distinct impression this had been a test for him, rather than for the two aspirants.


	3. The Wait

The past quarter of an hour had nearly been the death of her. Or maybe she was exaggerating and it had just been the longest fifteen minutes of her life. Or maybe she should stop being so melodramatic and hope that whatever reason Mr Carson had had to call Mr Bates into his office had nothing to do with dismissing him.

And since she was trying to be sensible, it would be better if she would actually do something about her mending of Lady Sybil's clothes instead of just pretending to do it in order to have an excuse to sit at the table in the servants' hall, where she had a good view of Mr Carson's closed door.

Two of the youngest scullery maids were talking and giggling at the other end of the table, next to the fire, and the noise was making Anna feel rather jumpy, but she could not find a reason to tell them to be quiet. She very much doubted she even was entitled to do so. It was their free time after all.

At least O'Brien and Thomas were no-where to be seen. It would have been just too much to have to endure the waiting accompanied by sneer remarks or veiled insults.

Still… "Would you join me in my office after you tend to His Lordship, Mr Bates?"

Anna could not have helped to overhear Mr Carson right before dinner; she had been passing next to them at that moment.

Had Mr Bates felt uneasy about that request as she had? Had food tasted like wool for him, too?

Finally the door opened and Mr Bates came out, looking thoughtful.

For a wild second Anna considered calling him, but that would be plainly telling she had been waiting for him. If there was something she had learned in the short time she had known the valet was that he valued his privacy. Still she could not take her eyes off him and almost as if the weight of her gaze had served as a calling, Mr Bates looked in her direction and even though the corridor was dimly lit, Anna was almost sure he was smiling.

Slowly he approached her and, ignoring the giggling girls, he sat in front of her.

"Isn't it a bit late for work?" he asked softly, the smile reaching his eyes.

"It is," Anna said, making a point of looking down at her almost fake task, "but I am sure Lady Sybil will ask for this at the least convenient time. Better get it done while I can."

Mr Bates nodded and Anna wondered if she would sum up the courage to ask him what his conversation with Mr Carson had been about.

He did not move for a moment and she looked up to find him staring at his own hands.

"I just learned…," he was talking very slowly. "I had the most unusual conversation with Mr Carson," he had lowered his voice and Anna had to lean forward to hear him properly. Both looked at the younger maids, they were ignoring them and looking at a book one of them was holding.

"About what?" Anna asked boldly.

"About Thomas, and Mr Molesley. Did you know both of them have applied for the position of butler and valet at the Crawley House?"

"I knew Mr Molesley had," Anna nodded. "He told me so the other day I run into him in the village."

"Do you know him?" Mr Bates prompted.

"Why, yes, everybody does. Local family. And his father has the most beautiful roses on the region, only do not let the Dowager Countess ever hear it. But never mind about that," she hastened to add. "Thomas wants the post, too?"

"That's what Mr Carson said."

"And to think he was speaking so badly about them only earlier! He sounded as if being a solicitor in Manchester was next to working in a coal mine!" she was both outraged and amused. "And all this time he's been hoping to work for him!"

"Hush," Mr Bates said, smiling at her indignation and putting a finger to his lips. Anna smiled sheepishly. "But yes, that's it."

"And who's going to take the post? Did Mr Carson say?"

Mr Bates shook his head slowly. "That's the strange part of the whole conversation. He has not told me if he had made a decision. He… he said he wanted my opinion on the matter."

It was clear that he was surprised, and, truth to be told, Anna was, too. She could not remember ever hearing about Mr Carson asking for anybody's opinion, except maybe that of Mrs Hughes on occasion.

"And what did you told him?"

"I couldn't tell him anything useful," Mr Bates said. "I would like both of them to fill in the position. Molesley is an old acquaintance and deserves it, and Thomas… well, I would very much like to see him leave."

Anna chuckled. "We all would have made you a monument if you had managed that! I bet all of us would have contributed… except maybe Daisy," she added as an afterthought.

"And Miss O'Brien."

Anna nodded, still smiling, while realising she had not even pretended to be sewing anymore, engrossed as she had been with Mr Bates' conversation.

"Well, that's a relief," she heard the words escaping her without having thought of it.

"What's a relief?" Mr Bates asked.

She was cornered. "I thought he might… I thought you would be leaving?"

Mr Bates looked at her intently. "To be honest, I thought that too, at first. But now… It might be presumptuous, but I don't think I will be leaving anytime soon. Not if Mr Carson has a say on the matter… and if I behave, that is." Now he was smiling again, that special smile he displayed so seldom, that reached the corners of his eyes.

"I'm ever so glad," she said.

"Me too."

* * *

 **AN:** A bit of an explanation. Since they hardly have any time to be alone, I am just trying to put together ways in which hey could have met one another better. All these three chapters (and a couple to follow) happen between E1 and E2, when you can see A&B being quite close, casually chatting in the background of scenes that are about something else entirely.

Thanks very very much to readers and reviewers! I love to hear from you!


	4. The Scolding

Snaps of conversation reached his ears as he polished Lord Grantham's riding boots in the boot room. The door was open, as usual, and the two women talking in the hall were not exactly yelling, but they were not whispering either.

"It is too much, Anna," Millie, the new housemaid had been complaining for a while now. Part of what she said was unintelligible over the sound of the brush on the boots, but, from time to time, a stray phrase would reach his ears.

"Nobody ever said it was not," Anna's voice was calm, but it has lost all of the friendliness Bates was used to. It had been that what had made him pay attention. "You knew what sort of work you would have to do when you applied."

"I know but the drawing room, and then the dining room, and then the small librar-"

"That's enough, Millie," she said. "I've been covering for you, and some of the other maids tell me they have been doing that, too."

"Who said that?" now the younger maid's voice sounded indignant. Bated could not catch Anna's response, both had lowered their voices. And then, there was silence.

He did not want to interrupt whatever that was about, but he had to take the now perfectly clean boots upstairs. The women seemed to have taken the argument someplace else, so it might be safe for him to go.

He was mistaken though.

Anna and Millie were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Millie, a good half a head taller than the head housemaid was glaring at her. Anna was not flinching, doing a good glare of her own. They did not seem to have noticed he was standing there. It struck Bates how small Anna looked and yet how strong and unflinching she seemed.

"This is your last opportunity, Millie, I am sorry," she said softly, but there was energy in her voice and Bates suddenly wished never to be at the other end of her anger.

"You're not being fair!" the maid said rebelliously.

Anna did not say a word; a hand on her hips she kept on staring. Finally, after several very long seconds, Millie bowed her head, defeated.

"You know what you have to do," Anna said, now a little friendlier. She seemed to have sensed his presence, though, because the next second she looked at him and the smallest of smiles lighted her features, albeit quite briefly. Finally, Anna gave the younger maid a pat on the upper arm and left.

* * *

It was very late when Anna came down after settling Lady Mary for the night. It was usually the other way around, Bates noticed, from his post at the table. His Lordship's habit to be the last one going to bed meant that he was usually the last returning to the servant's hall.

"Cup of tea?" he offered Anna over his book, as she sat heavily at his side.

"Warm milk, or else I won't sleep a wink."

"That's hard to believe," O'Brien seemed to be unable to keep off other people's business even when it was about trivial matters like this.

Bates was about to offer to fetch the milk for Anna, but she was already on her feet, heading to the kitchen. A moment later she was back, a cup and saucer on her hand, and with a deep sigh she resumed her place at the table.

"I did not know you were in the boot room, or else I would've taken the scolding somewhere else," she said conversationally, as if just a moment had passed instead of a complete afternoon. "But I think Millie did not see you, so she was spared of the humiliation."

"What happened?" Bates asked. It had been so strange to see Anna so serious; he had become accustomed of her being warm and kind to everybody.

"You know she's supposed to replace Sue. It's just... she doesn't seem to be able to cope with her share."

Mrs Hughes entered the room at that very moment. "I'll turn in. Have you talked to Millie, then?" she addressed Anna.

"I was just telling Mr Bates about it," she said with another sigh and a smile that did not reach her eyes. "I did. And I hope it'll work this time."

"Good," she turned around to leave, but stopped at the door and looked back at Anna. "Let's give it a week, and if she doesn't improve, we'll have to let her go."

"Yes, Mrs Hughes," Anna prompted.

Bates looked at her. The moment the housekeeper had left, a small frown appeared.

"I don't think a week will be enough," she whispered, probably to stop O'Brien from listening in. She did not have to worry, though, for Thomas had just arrived and the two of them were doing some whispering of their own. "Or a lifetime."

"That bad…?"

"It's not only the fact that she's not doing her share. It's that she's getting the other maids to do it. That means extra work for them and myself. I don't really mind, but some of the younger ones have complained to Mrs Hughes and me."

Bates had never truly understood until this point what being head housemaid really meant.

"So, if she does not do her job, it reflects badly on you."

"On us all," Anna explained. "And Mrs Hughes won't have any of it. Only… I am to do the scolding when these things happen. And how I hate it."

She took a gulp of milk and set the cup back on the table, staring at it.

"I hate that her staying might depend on me."

"So you're trying to convince Mrs Hughes Millie will do well, even though you don't believe it yourself?"

Finally Anna smiled. "One has to try, right?"


	5. The Letter

Most of the staff liked the season. Some of them even looked forward to it. The family going to London meant a lot less curtsying and the possibility to make a little more noise and even to have one afternoon free every week instead of every fortnight.

Anna did not felt particularly happy, though. For starters, even though the girls were in London, her duties as housemaid had doubled, with Mrs Hughes wanting to do throughout cleanings of each and every one of the rooms in the house. And she really missed helping the girls out; even if she sometimes found her gossiping scandalous or shallow, she had grown to like the three of them and their conversation.

And then, of course, there was the loss of her new friend.

Mr Carson, Miss O'Brien, Thomas and Mr Bates had gone to London with the family. She had helped packing for the girls and had seen the luggage being carried and sent to the station. Mr Bates had tried his best to cope with the numerous suitcases Lord Grantham was taking, and Anna was sure she had seen once or twice a grimace of pain crossing his features, only to be hastily replaced by a neutral expression. William had made a point on helping him, as if extra suitcases were part of his duties, and Anna was grateful for that.

The servant's hall looked unusually quiet, despite of the more frequent giggling of the younger staff. There had been an automatic re-arrangement of the seating at the table, with Mrs Hughes now on one end, Anna at her right and William at her left.

It was not difficult to admit, Anna was enjoying being at the house when Miss O'Brien and Thomas were not there. It was a nice change not to have to be defensive all the time, or exasperated at their sneers and disdainful remarks. She was missing Mr Bates, though, and she had surprised herself more than once considering what was worse: to be free of Thomas and O'Brien, but without him to share it; or to be with them all, for good or worse.

Anna was climbing down the stairs, a very large bundle of clothes under her arms. She had been sorting the colour frocks the girls would use when they came back. It had been decided that they would keep their half-mourning colours during the season, too, to Lady Mary's chagrin. She had said in more than one occasion how she hated grey and lavender. After having to mend, iron and fold her own share, Anna could agree that she could use a break of those colours too.

There was a lot to work on, though. The frocks needed some cleaning and probably mending. She knew that it was more than possible that a load of these clothes would be discarded the moment the girls arrived, due to new fashions they might have picked in London, but she had no idea which ones would stay, so it would be better to have it all ready just in case.

And it was something to keep her mind and hands occupied in the afternoon.

It was then that she missed him the most. Even though Mr Bates did not talk to her or anybody in particular that frequently, and they did not even worked together much, she realised she missed his calm presence during meals and on that rare free time they had before the girls and Lady and Lord Grantham would go to bed. Sometimes he would just sit there, reading in silence, sometimes he would comment about something somebody was talking about, sometimes he would look at her and share a small glance over something that was going on, related to Thomas or Miss O'Brien most of the times. Those glances, and the way his eyes would crinkle were something she was looking forward to have back once the autumn came.

"There is a letter for you, Anna," Mrs Hughes said, handing her a small envelope. "Came with the evening post."

She looked at it, puzzled. She had just have a letter from home days ago, and the handwriting, neat and clear, did not look like her mother's at all. It had an air of familiarity, though, that she could not really place. She put it in the pocket of her apron and carried on towards the laundry with her bulk of clothes.

On her way back she stopped in the courtyard. Even though it was late, the sun had not already settled and it was nice and warm, and she had no other duties for the day. She sat carefully on some empty wooden crates and reached for the mysterious envelope. There was no sender, just her name and Downton Abbey's address.

Anna opened it.

 _Dear Anna,_

She felt a very funny, almost forgotten jump in her chest. Surely not! She turned the page and skipped right to the end of the letter.

 _Yours truly,_

 _John Bates_

What could Mr Bates possibly want to tell her that he would go to all the trouble to write her a letter? Not something about the girls, surely?

 _Dear Anna_ , she read again, this time slowly.

 _I hope you don't find this letter strange. At some point you asked me to drop you a line and here I am, doing exactly that._

 _I cannot say I am enjoying London very much, although it has its perks. For once, I have been granted permission to visit my mother twice. And then, there is a much wider selection of books to buy than what that poor old man at Ripon has to offer._

 _Other than that, our being here has been all about preparing the family to paying visits, going to balls and several other social occasions as expected. I hope I don't sound mundane to you when I tell you I cannot believe the amount of times one gentleman has to change his clothes in one day, not to mention the ladies. That is a part of the job I had almost forgotten._

 _The staff here is nice enough, the housekeeper seems to rather enjoy having the house full, and the rest treat us with some sort of respect I find both curious and tiresome._

 _I find myself thinking about Downton with longing. The mealtimes, Mrs Patmore's ranting, the looks we would share sometimes, when one of our neighbours would speak a tad more than what is necessary, which they keep on doing even here, of course. Sadly, I find myself without a helper when it comes the time to answer back. O_ _ne does get fond of some habits, and maybe it is too soon to say so, but I think I've come to make some nice habits in the short time I've been at the house._

 _Perhaps you're taking this time to have some well-earned rest? I do hope so._

 _Yours truly,_

 _John Bates_

Anna traced the name with the tip of her finger. He had written to her. He had said he missed- She went back to re-read the letter. There. He had mentioned the looks they share. Yes. It had not been her imagination. There was something akin between them, he had noticed.

Smiling, she put the letter in the envelope and that in her pocket, and headed back inside, already composing a reply in her head.


	6. The Reply

Had he waited for her reply? Not exactly. He had hoped, to some extent, but he certainly was surprised when a week after sending his letter a small envelope was handed to him by Mr Carson. He knew the neat, small handwriting must be Anna's even though, just as he had done with his own letter, there was no sender on the envelope.

Bates did not have to wait long for an opportunity to read it. Lord Grantham had announced earlier that he would spend the day at his club. He had added, to Bates' benefit when he had been helping him in his room, that he was looking forward to have a day in which paying visits would not be required of him. The valet had not replied, but he felt he agreed with His Lordship wholeheartedly.

He had been granted permission to visit her mother one last time. The family's time in London was almost over and he would be quite busy packing for their return during their last days in the city.

On the way to his childhood's house he took out the letter and read it, being acutely aware that he was smiling and feeling silly for that.

 _Dear Mr Bates,_

 _Your letter was a nice surprise and a welcomed one. Although I had the distinct impression you were bragging about the fact that you are in London having fun while I'm here, getting through every single room of the house for a proper clean up, with Mrs Hughes on my heels._

 _So no, thank you very much, I'm not taking this time to rest._

Bates chuckled. He could picture perfectly her eyebrow arched and the tone of mock indignation.

"You look happier today," Mrs Bates said. "Have you had any good news?"

He had to take his mind of the piece of paper in his pocket and focus on his mother instead.

"Not exactly," he said.

"Whatever it is, it's nice to see you smile again."

He did not know how to answer that. During the time after his coming out of prison to find out his wife was gone, he had lived in this house, while looking for a job. He had hated to be a burden for his mother, but now, months after that, he realised the problem was not exactly his being there, but his foul mood at that.

"I know I wasn't the cheery type earlier," he started and apology.

"You have not been the cheery type for a long while, now"

 _I've heard Lord Grantham was going to meet with the new heir. I don't suppose you know something about that you might like to share with us? As you might have suspected, there is hardly any other topic of conversation downstairs, although I must admit it's getting rather boring, since we do not have a face to go along with the gossip._

"I'm sorry," he said.

His mother took his hand. "It's all water under the bridge now, never mind."

"I don't know if I still know how to be happy."

There was an expression of half amusement and half exasperation in her mother's features "Aren't you? Back at Downton?"

 _How are Miss O'Brien and Thomas behaving? I hope that all those times she has to attend to Lady Grantham are keeping her well out of your way, although I know there are mealtimes and breaks you will have to share with them. I almost miss the replies we would give them. I am quite sure you're managing quite fine on your own on that account, but you'd do better with my help of course._

He had to think his answer carefully. He had been relieved when Lord Grantham had told him to step out of the car and stay. And that sort of relief had stayed with him for weeks, growing when he had felt that his position in the house was being accepted by Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes.

But being happy? Could he, really? When he knew he was still tied to a woman in a loveless marriage? When he had seen all the bad things in the world, and even suffered most of them? When he was unable to walk properly and he was aware that young William was trying his best for his help not to be noticed?

And yet there were those times, conversations during meals, shared laughter, hadn't he written to Anna just days ago that he longed for being back?

"Downton makes me feel almost safe, for the time being," Bates said cautiously to her mother. "And yes, I rather enjoy the company of some of the new acquaintances."

 _I run into Mr Molesley the other day and he confirmed he had been hired to be butler and valet at Crawley House so, that's settled. He's glad, since his former job did not allowed him to see his father very often._

 _Is it terrible of me to confess I had the hope Thomas would get that job and we'd see him leave?_

"Wouldn't you call that being happy?" his mother smiled, the wrinkles in her eyes just like his.

His mind wandered back to what he had written. Yes, he enjoyed it. And not just because being Lord Grantham's valet was his only choice. The conversations, not being alone anymore, the laughter and the cheeky remarks Anna would make from time to time. Almost unconsciously le touched the letter in his inner pocket.

 _Do enjoy your last days in the big city._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Anna_

"Maybe I'd just forgotten what it feels like," Bates finally said. "But yes, you could say I am happy."

* * *

 **AN:** Isis the dog made me realised I hadn't tagged the characters in this story. I'm sorry! Thanks a lot, Isis!

And also thanks to you all for reading and for those great reviews!


	7. The Homecoming

Anna liked Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes little rituals. After having worked with one another for so long, she had the feeling their roles fit together nicely, almost like a well-rehearsed dance.

The butler coming home from London one day earlier was one of those.

"Really, Mr Carson, there was no need for you to hurry here."

"I am perfectly aware of that, Mrs Hughes. However, I thought it would be kinder to you if I were here earlier with the luggage, so I can help you out."

Having heard a similar exchange for for the past couple of years, Anna had to bite the inside of her cheek for her smile not to be noticeable by the housekeeper and the butler. She was sure Mrs Hughes knew Mr Carson would come earlier. And he knew she would protest, and he would say he was doing it for her sake.

Mr Carson was right, though. There was a lot to do and not much time to do so, what with all the heavy suitcases, cases and hat boxes they had to sort out, and all the rooms they had to air and clean again, just in case.

It was with a very exhausted sigh that Anna finally let herself fall on her bed that night.

"I thought this day would never be over," Gwen groaned.

"You are aware that there will be more luggage when they come tomorrow, right?" Anna said with andry smile.

"God, have mercy."

"At least we'll go back to our regular cleaning schedules."

Gwen grunted something that sounded like "G'night" and rolled on her back. Anna blew the candle, settled comfortably and closed her eyes, but sleep was eluding her.

Mr Bates would be back, too.

And the fact that she was happy about it was making her feel rather foolish. Yes, she had missed him; and yes, they have become friends in the months he had been in the house, but was it enough reason for her to be so eager to see him again? Or had it been his letter? There was nothing especially friendly in it, except for the fact that he had written to her at all… and yet...

Anna turned around and huffed on her pillow. She was being silly. She was too old and she knew the real world too well to get lost in such silly fantasies. The sensible thing to do was to get some rest and, when the morning finally came, to do her work.

Her determination not only lasted through the night. By the time the cars were rolling slowly towards the house, she was standing as firm and proud as Mr Carson, and looking fixedly to the air in front of her, the perfect image of the perfect housemaid. Efficient and emotionless.

That was until the cars pulled over and the front door of the first one opened. Mr Bates climbed down, with agility she would never had guessed from him, and he looked down the row of servants until his eyes met hers. It lasted a second too long, and his lips quivered a little, the smallest of smiles lingered there before he turned around to unload the luggage, William at his side now, giving him a hand. Anna had not been able to help it, she had smiled back at Mr Bates, remembering only too late that she was not supposed to be doing that.

Fortunately the second car was pulling over now, and the girls were climbing down. Anna headed to the house at their heels, ready to help them change and settle for tea.

"- won't believe how silly they all looked in those hats!"

"Dreadful, I know!"

"You're both being unkind! They did not look that bad to me-"

She was not only glad they were back, she was glad she had something to do that would distract her of thinking about how much she liked it when Mr Bates smiled.

The unpacking took her the rest of the day, and it was almost enough to take her mind off things. It wasn't until the gong rung for dinner that she could finally reach the servants' hall and sit down, glad to be off her feet for a while.

The distinct tap of the cane on the pavement gave her a funny thrill, and the next moment she was mentally scolding herself for it. She had to stop it, she really had.

"Hello, Anna," he said, taking his usual sit next to her. How good it was to have him there!

"Hello, Mr Bates," she said, aware that she was beaming and there was nothing she could do about it. "Welcome back."

"It's nice to be back," he said, smiling with his eyes.

The arrival of Mrs Hughes and the buzz of dinner being served broke the effect, but for a moment Anna had felt as if they both had been on a world of their own, away from the hall and the voices around them. Still, even when she joined in the maids' conversation about Lady Edith's new frock, she could not ignore his being there, reassuring and kind.

One by one, the bells rung. Tired from the journey, the family was going to bed early, and it was clear they were all glad downstairs. It took Anna some time to help the girls, and by the time she was back the hall was almost empty, except for Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes, having a last cup of tea before turning in.

She bid them goodnight, and headed upstairs, trying hard to ignore the disappointment of not seeing Mr Bates before going to bed, even for a moment.

"Anna? Do you have a moment?" his voice at her back made her spin around.

"Yes," she said, rather breathless.

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you."

"You didn't. Surprised me, that's all."

He smiled, and without a word he reached into his inside pocket and produced a small, flat parcel. Looking around to be sure they were alone, he handed it to Anna.

"What-?"

"You didn't think I was going to brag about bookstores without bringing any proof, did you?"

She smiled and started opening the brown paper cover, but he put his hand on top of hers, preventing her to open it fully.

"Not here. Take it," he said, withdrawing his hand before she could really register his warm skin on hers.

She nodded. "Thank you."

His smile broadened. "Good night, Anna."

"Good night, Mr Bates."

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you, very very much. You guys are great!

This chapter is dedicated to Isis the dog, who gave me the idea of Bates bringing something for Anna. Thanks a heap, this was fun to write!


	8. The Gossip

"I've just seen something ever so odd," Anna whispered quietly, just before sitting next to him to have a cup of tea.

"What?" he whispered back.

The opportunities to talk privately were close to non-existent, but when the servants' hall was as full as it was now, Bates was sure they could carry on an almost private conversation if they talk quietly and tried not to draw much attention to themselves.

Anna seemed to be considering her answer for a moment, and it looked as if she was about to talk when Her Ladyship arrived, and all had to wait for later.

He was curious, though, and a little concerned. Anna was sensible, not prone to hysterics as many of the other maids. If something was bothering her it was surely something more important than the last bit they had learned or guessed about Mr Matthew Crawley. Bates did not know if he should ask her about it, or if he ought to wait for her to try to talk to him again.

Opportunity presented itself at night, when he had finished helping Lord Grantham. She was coming up the landing, almost colliding with him. Was she distracted?

"Are you all right, Anna?" he asked very quietly.

"Yes… why?" she did not look at him, but at her own feet, and Bates realised this was a first.

"Weren't you going to tell me something earlier?"

She looked at him, now, and he had the impression she was carefully considering him.

Finally, Anna shook her head with a dismissive smile. "It's nothing, I was just being silly."

"Are you sure?"

"I am… but thanks for asking anyway. G'night." And before he could press on, Anna was almost running upstairs to her bedroom.

Bates wished he could forget about it, but it was not so simple. He would keep an eye on her, he decided, when he went to bed a little later, to see if there was something he could help her with. But on the next morning at breakfast, she looked just as she always had. Maybe whatever it was had solved itself, Bates decided, joining the table and starting on his tea.

And yet, the thought did not prevent him to pay closer attention to Anna.

It was later, in the afternoon, when he met her again, polishing a pair of shoes in the servants' hall.

"Where is everyone?" he asked. It was so strange to see her on her own. In fact, he realised this was the first time.

"Some travelling salesman's set up at the pub for the afternoon."

"Alone at last." The words came without him realising he had voiced a thought that ought to have stayed well inside his own head. Where had that came from? And why did it sound exactly right, only very, very wrong? "We shouldn't be without both footmen. Does Mr Carson know?" He added hastily, forcing his brain to stop thinking about the way she had looked at him and all the things he would like to ask her, to tell her, now that indeed they were finally alone.

"Mrs Hughes does. She's gone with them. They won't be long."

He hoped they would, he thought, while sitting next to Anna, extending a piece of newspaper and getting his things ready to clean Lord Grantham's riding jacket.

"So," he said, racking his brains for something meaningful to say, "you see to the girls and you're supposed to be head housemaid." Brilliant. He was definitely out of practise. "You should put in for a raise."

"What do you mean, 'supposed to be'?" she answered back, eyes bright and smiling playfully. He chuckled and she joined in; when was the last time he had laugh, he could not say.

The bell of the front door interrupted them, but a strange new thought had taken residence inside Bates' head, both marvellous and frightening.

* * *

It had been a very unusual afternoon, and Bates could not stop imagining a younger version of Mr Carson as a performer on a stage. However, amusing as that image was, it paled next to a much alluring sight, that of Anna in a fit of giggles, sharing with him how strange the butler's revelation had been.

As she sat for dinner next to him, sobered up but with that gleam of glee in her eyes, Bates considered the many details he had learned, not about Mr Carson, but about her. When climbing down the stairs, she matched her pace to his much slower one. He had suspected but had not properly realised it until now. She had a beautiful laughter, spontaneous and inviting, and he had found himself joining in, with an ease he could not remember ever sharing with anyone.

It was her loyalty, though, what had stricken him the most. She had said she would not change the way she looked at Mr Carson, and if she was to find out something about him, Bates, it would not make a difference either. If only she knew how mistaken she was on that account! At yet he did not want her to know, because he did not want the inevitable: she would change her mind about him if she knew.

"You almost told me, didn't you?" he asked softly, after checking that most of the people around the table were lost in their own conversations.

"Told you what?"

"Yesterday you told me you'd seen something odd."

She blushed faintly. He might never had noticed it if he hadn't been paying close attention to her every gesture.

"I didn't know what to do," she said very quietly, her eyes on her plate. "He seemed to be in trouble, and I wanted to help. First I'd thought about asking for your advice. But afterwards I realised it was not my place to speak about it."

"I see," Bates glanced at Mr Carson. He was talking to Mrs Hughes as if nothing had happened, as if he had not offered his resignation earlier that day.

"Now I'm glad I didn't tell anybody," Anna looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back at her.

"Why me, though?" he asked, not sure why was it suddenly so important to know.

Anna took some time to answer, looking at her plate again, frowning a little.

"You wouldn't have made gossip out of it, you'd understand. And… I trust you'd do the right thing."

She smiled again, and he mirrored her, mechanically. To trust he'd do the right thing… now that was something to think about.


	9. The Change

By the time she and Gwen were finally ready, Mr Bates was no-where to be seen. Anna tried for her disappointment not to be noticeable, but to tell the truth, she had rather hoped to walk with him to the hospital for the ceremony. It was a rare treat for all the servants to be allowed to go out at the same time, and it would have been nice to share that time with him.

Maybe he was not going. Anna dawdled a little, fidgeting with her bag in what she hoped was a casual way, until Gwen asked her what was wrong and would she please hurry up or else they would miss it all.

Apparently he was not going. And maybe it was for the best. There had been just one too many moments shared between them and she was starting to think about him much more than what was healthy.

As she walked with Gwen, half listening to what the other maid was saying, she considered the latest events. The shared laughter, the things he had said to her, his letter, the way his eyes sometimes seemed to look for hers, in the middle of a crowded room… it could all be a coincidence, an affinity, a friendship in the making. There was no need to look into it, or to think about it any longer. She should be well past silly crushes and romantic fantasies that would not be of any use at all.

"He must have left quite earlier, I didn't see him."

Anna realised she was supposed to be answering something. "I'm sorry, who?" she said sheepishly.

"Mr Bates, there," Gwen looked ahead. In front of them Mr Carson was walking with Mrs Hughes, and several yards further, almost at the entrance of the hospital, Mr Bates was limping on his own.

So he had come, and Anna could very well imagine him leaving early so he would not slow anybody's pace. She rolled her eyes in half exasperation. "We could've walked with him," she said almost without noticing.

"If you hadn't taken ages to get ready," Gwen teased, right when they were getting to the gates.

"You are not exactly the fastest person I know," Anna told her, and both giggled. She could not fail to notice, though, that Mr Carson had stopped to talk to Mr Bates before they came in. She hoped there was nothing serious about it, but she dismissed the thought at once. If something, Mr Carson had to be careful about what Mr Bates knew about his past. The idea of the butler on a stage still made her smile.

* * *

The ceremony was brief. Routinely, the staff of Downton Abbey had sat according to rank, which meant that she found herself between Thomas and Mr Bates. She wished it had lasted longer, even though there chances of even sharing a glance in that situation were scarce.

She had to shake her head at her own thoughts. Hadn't she decided mere moments before to stop thinking about Mr Bates and the looks they would or wouldn't share?

There was no way to stop them coming out together, though, and before she could even wish for it to happen, she realised the rest of the housemaids were already on her way, and she had been left to walk back home with him. It was certainly unreasonable how happy she was.

"I think I should tell you," Mr Bates spoke slowly, "that Mr Carson is grateful."

"Oh, is that what he told you before?" Anna flinched at her own words. Wasn't she making obvious the fact that she had noticed? That she was paying too much attention?

"Indeed. He wants to thank us for our discretion."

"Well, there's no need."

"I told him that. I expect he wanted me to pass on the message to you."

She smiled, not sure of what to say.

Used as she was to walk briskly from one task to the other, she was almost surprised to realise she was enjoying Mr Bates' slower steps. It was as if things looked slightly clearer, better. Almost as if some of that was readable in her expression, he spoke again.

"You can go ahead if you have something to do. There's no need for you to slow down because of me."

"Don't be silly," she said, looking at him. His voice was almost emotionless, but she was starting to learn that he was much more eloquent with his eyes. "I'm rather enjoying walking with you." Did she really say that? "It makes a nice change not to hurry." She added, wondering if she was making things worse.

He smiled, not just with his eyes, and she almost sighed in relief.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you all, very very much!


	10. The Typewriter

Anna was slightly shocked after learning that Gwen wanted to be a secretary. On top of that, she admired how she had managed to follow the assignments of her correspondence course without anybody noticing, not even she, sharing her room!

 _Very observant, Anna. Truly what a proper housemaid should be_ , she had scolded herself.

After O'Brien had entered and left, Gwen had hurried to put the typewriter back into its case and up the cupboard, with Anna's help.

"But when have you been working on this?" Anna finally asked.

"At night," Gwen said shrugging. "You sleep quite soundly." The head housemaid looked alarmed. "Not the actual typing," Gwen added. "That's just too much of a racket. I do that on my day off."

It was truly remarkable, Anna thought, while fixing her cap and running to meet O'Brien.

During the afternoon she reflected on Gwen. There were plenty of maids that would be thrilled to be hired in a big house, but that were actually waiting for a husband to appear and take them away after some time. Anna had met many of the sorts during her years in service.

Strangely enough, she had never thought that life was for her. Twice she had been posed the question. The first time, the lad that helped the local shop owner with the deliveries. The second one, a farmer she had met on her days off. Both had been nice men, but not enough to tempt her, even a little, to leave service and join them as a wife.

No. It was much easier to think that she would stay at the house and, eventually, become a lady's maid. Maybe Mary's, if she kept on with what was apparently good work, or even Edith's... if she ever got married.

But what Gwen wanted to do was altogether different. She wanted to be independent, right on her own two feet. It sounded insane, and yet, Anna felt she almost envied her. Almost.

They were both entering the servant's hall after helping with the dinner service when Gwen froze, right on the threshold.

"What's that doing here?"

Almost everybody was standing around the table. In the middle of it sat the typewriter. Somebody had even put a piece of paper on it.

"Ah, Gwen, come in," said Mrs Hughes in a calm tone.

Anna could appreciate Gwen's indignation, but it would not help her. She hoped Mrs Hughes would understand, if not Mr Carson, but yelling, even though she had the right to, would not do the trick. She shared the maid's indignation, though.

"This is you, isn't it?" she asked O'Brien, the moment she could talk over Gwen and Mrs Hughes. The lady's maid was looking at the scene, showing no emotion. Why did she always find the need to stir up trouble was anybody's guess.

"All we want is to know what Gwen wants with a typewriter, and why she feels the need to keep it secret?" Mr Carson asked, watched by half the staff.

"She wants to keep it private, not secret." Anna felt the need to say. "There is a difference."

"Amen," she heard Mr Bates' voice at her back. She had not realised he had been there, but she was grateful for the support.

"I've done nothing to be ashamed of," Gwen continued her explanations. It was proving difficult for her to keep a neutral voice. Her ideas were new to most of the people listening to them. Not being in service, wishing rather to be a secretary in an office... Mr Carson's eyebrows hat shot upwards and some of the younger staff had looked scandalised.

Fortunately, Mr Carson realised it was the time for ringing the gong. As everybody filled out, Gwen asked if she could have her typewriter back.

"Very well," the butler said, "but I wish I were sure you know what you're doing." Of course for him it was probably very difficult to understand. He had devoted his life to service, and after what she and Mr Bates had learned about his past, Anna very much doubted Mr Carson would ever consider a different career path.

Gwen took her machine without adding a word a headed upstairs. When she passed Anna, she mouthed a _thank you_ , but her eyes still looked troubled.

Anna headed towards the staircase.

"You spoke up well in there," Mr Bates' voice made her stop. He was right behind her.

Anna felt slightly hot in the face and hoped her blush was not evident to him. "She is taking a risk, though," she hastened to say. "Mr Carson is right."

"Maybe," Mr Bates agreed. "But it's her risk to take."

"I suppose you're right." It made her feel a tad less worried, though. Somehow, having Mr Bates' support made Gwen's idea seem almost reasonable. "Anything planned? For your half day tomorrow?"

"I might take a train into Leeds." His eyes did not meet her and she wondered if that was actually what he was planning to do.

"What for?"

"No reason in particular," he shrugged. She was curious, but it was clear he did not want to elaborate on whatever that was. "Come on, we'd better get moving or they'll be dressing themselves and we can't have that. They might find out they can manage without us."

* * *

 **AN:** Finally, Episode 3! I'm looking forward to write about Mr Bates limp corrector and how to carry a dead- well, you know. **  
**

So, I got my hands on the Script Book. Very enjoyable. The last scene is a deleted one that I wish they had used on the final version. More of those are going to appear.

I wanted to make this next chapter from Bates PoV, because last one was Anna's, but I needed her take of things. To the OCD people out there (like myself), sorry!

Thanks very much for all your support!


	11. The Contraption

He turned the contraption in his hands, looking at it with interest and no little apprehension. It was rather heavy and sturdy looking. And, even if it was brand new, there was a painful familiarity in the metal braces and the leather straps. He had seen many a contraption like this one before, used them plenty of times, too, during his time as a convalescent in a military hospital.

What was so special about this one that he had been willing to spend almost all his savings on it? He did not know. But it was certainly worth the try.

When he had been recovering from his wound, it had not been a choice. Either he would do everything the doctors said, or he would not be able to use his leg again. Now, even though he was granted to walk, again he felt he had no choice. Lord Grantham had taken him as his valet out of loyalty. Friendship, maybe. And both of them knew His Lordship could find a better valet with no difficulty. Bates just had to do his best to get better and to be the valet Lord Grantham should have.

It would be nice, to be able to get rid of his walking stick, to be able to walk normally, not to slow down anybody. If this limp corrector was what the advertisement said it was, it was well worth the discomfort, or the possible pain.

He extended his leg, as much as he could, and looked at it critically. The white scars from the war wound shone clearly and it was evident the strange angle of the calf. Carefully, Bates placed the metal contraption under it. It felt cold and foreign, but the leather straps were strangely soft, almost comfortable. He knew better than to trust that impression.

Carefully, he adjusted the position of the braces until the corrector fitted exactly the length of his leg. Now the difficult part. Bending low, he reached to the clam nearest his ankle. So far, he had managed to ignore the pegs; now they were unavoidable. Fixing the leader straps, he adjusted them, feeling the pressure on his skin. With a sigh he repeated the operation on the clams at his calf, his knee and those at his thigh. It was uncomfortable to say the least, and he was sure it would get painful as he would put weight on his leg.

Using the bed and his stick as a support, he stood up. Except from the pressure on the sides, his leg felt no different. Of course, the maker had told him he needed to use it for a considerable time to see results. Gingerly he put more weight on the leg. The braces gave him a little more support than what he was used to with his crooked leg, but it was less uncomfortable when he did not step on it.

He repeated to himself it was worth the try, and after putting on his pants, careful to fully hide the corrector, he went downstairs for breakfast.

Three days had passed and he could not see a difference, except for the bruises that had started to appear, and the very nasty red marks where the pegs met his skin. When he would take off the contraption, though, at night, his leg felt exactly the same. Well, he had to give it more time, of course. Only problem was, it was getting quite painful to go through his regular duties.

He was taking Lord Grantham's jacket to brush when he heard it. Anna's and Gwen's muffled voices from inside one of the spare rooms.

Gwen's revelation of her dream of leaving service and becoming a secretary had left everybody downstairs a little shocked, and Bates had heard comments that ranged from full support to absolute despise. No wonder she was starting to doubt herself.

"-I'm the daughter of a farmhand and I'm lucky to be a maid. I was born with nothing, and I'll die with nothing."

Her predicament was just too familiar to Bates, but she would never achieve a thing if she was to hold to such grim thoughts. Of that, he was sure.

"Don't talk like that. You can change your life if you want to. Sometimes you have to be hard on yourself but you can change it completely," how he wanted to believe in his own words. He needed to, just as much as Gwen. "I know," he added, and just then, he felt a sharp pain in his calf. He grimaced, trying to suppress a cry.

"Mr Bates? Are you all right?" Anna looked at him concerned, and it took him all his willpower to clench his teeth and nod. "Take her upstairs," he said with a smile, "dry her off".

The moment they went, though, he could not hide the pain anymore, and he had to stop for a moment to collect himself.

"Mr Bates," Mrs Hughes had seen him. He needed to be more careful, and more in control of his pain. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing. Not a thing, I'm fine."

"Let me help you," she said, looking at the tweed jacket he was carrying. She was assuming it was his usual limp giving him trouble, and that was just the worst thing that could happen. He was going through all this trouble to be more capable, not to make them doubt of him as it was.

"I'm perfectly all right, thank you, Mrs Hughes." He was being short with her, but it was a small price to pay if he was to stop himself from growling aloud again.

"Are you sure? You're as white as a sheet."

"That's my wonderful complexion," he struggled to keep his voice calm, even light, "inherited from my Irish mother." The housekeeper's expression left no doubt, she was not convinced.

With what felt as almost an inhuman effort, Bates left, walking as carefully as he could so it would look normal to the eyes that were following him.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you very much for reading!


	12. The Foreigner

**AN:** I'm sorry I couldn't upload yesterday. Thanks a lot for reading!

* * *

"It is really pointless," Lady Mary huffed. "By now she should understand I won't marry somebody just because they all would want me to."

"I thought you rather liked Mr Napier," Anna said, genuinely confused. She had known Mary and the man had been exchanging letters for quite a while now and, considering Mary's character, that was saying a lot.

"Oh, he's nice enough," Lady Mary shrugged. "I have the impression, though, he'd be quite dull as a husband."

Anna chuckled, giving the last touches to her bun.

"I suppose you can see what happens once you get the chance to spend some actual time with him. Not just letters."

"But that's exactly the thing, isn't it?" She looked at Anna through the mirror. "How am I supposed to, if whenever we get the chance to meet, we're surrounded by half of the country the whole time? Even now I heard Papa telling Lynch he must escort me during the hunt."

Anna smiled sympathetically. "Sounds rather difficult, m'lady."

"You have no idea."

She had, as a matter of fact. Even though the cases were evidently different, and Anna could not say there was actual courting going on downstairs, she could very well understand the exasperation of having to be surrounded by people all the time, holding on to the precious scarce opportunities of whispered conversation in rooms full of people.

Still, despite her complaining, Lady Mary was pleased. She liked riding and showing off, and the hunt would give her opportunities to do both.

"I just hope that Turk won't spoil things… that is, even if there would be things that could be spoiled," she said standing up. Anna helped her put on her coat and hat. Lady Mary admired herself in the mirror and, with a nod, she exited the room.

As ready as she could have made herself, she had not been ready for the foreign visitor, though, that much became clear to Anna later.

"Lady Mary? Really?" She heard Gwen's incredulous tones when entering the servant's hall for a break. The hunting party had already left and she was longing for a moment to sit and have a cup of tea.

"I'm telling you," William said. "Her jaw dropped when she saw _him_."

"Mr Napier?" Anna asked, incredulous too.

"Not him," William snorted. "The foreigner. That Turk!"

Anna laughed. "Are you telling us Lady Mary was taken with a Turk?"

"He's not just any Turk, by the looks of it." Gwen said, giggling. "Apparently he's rather good looking."

"Must be. To impress Lady Mary like that."

"I'm telling you," William said with a smile. "For a moment there, she was speechless."

"Well, that's certainly a first," Gwen added in an undertone. Mr Carson had just entered and all of them knew better than to gossip about the family in his presence.

When the hunting party came back, it was with no little amount of curiosity that Anna went to receive them. Actually, a large number of maids have volunteer to put sheets over the carpets before they came, to get a glimpse of the foreigner no doubt. They were disappointed when mrs Hughes shooed them downstairs, leaving just Anna, Thomas and some of the visitors' valets to wait.

Dirty with mud and disheveled as he was, along with everybody, Anna could see how this man could have rend Lady Mary speechless. He was certainly exotic, and very good looking at that.

"Thank you, Anna," Lady Mary muttered automatically as she helped her taking off her coat and boots. It was plain, though, that her attention was elsewhere entirely. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna could see she was not the only one. Waiting in the shadows, Thomas seemed to be only too eager to fulfil his duties as this man's temporary valet.

She disguised a chuckle as a faint cough and went upstairs to prepare Lady Mary's bath. In the landing, Gwen and O'Brien were spying on the party, as the Turk and Thomas crossed the hall heading upstairs.

"He doesn't look turkish at all," Gwen said, the moment Anna joined them. Even O'Brien seemed to be on the verge of smiling.

"Well, he doesn't look like any Englishman I've ever met, worse luck." Anna couldn't help saying. "I think he's beautiful." He was indeed. It wouldn't be half bad if by some chance Lady Mary would marry him. It'll be something very nice to look at every day.

* * *

"He's interesting enough," she said with airs of indifference that might fool her sisters, but not Anna. "Not what anybody would expect of a foreigner."

"Meaning?" said Edith.

"He's very well educated," Lady Mary answered, and Anna was sure she was talking about something else entirely.

"So now I suppose you'd be bored of Evelyn Napier," Edith said with a nasty smile.

"Why? Do you want to try?"

Much later, after dinner and finally on her own, Lady Mary seemed to have much less to talk about. Anna knew better than to ask, but she wondered if something had happened in the meantime that had left her so distracted.

"Are you quite all right, m'lady?" she finally asked, buth curious and concerned.

It took Lady Mary a second to answer.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Just an impression, that's all. You look flustered. I hope you're not falling ill." It was true. Usually pale, Mary's cheeks were bright pink, and at some point it had even seemed as if she had shivered.

"I'm fine… I suppose I'm a little tired from the hunt."

"Of course," Anna looked at her through the mirror. No, there was something else, definitely. She finished with her hair in silence and dawdled a little, collecting dirty clothes. "Will this be all, my Lady?" she finally asked, running out of reasons to stay.

Lady Mary nodded, and Anna left, tired and wishing dinner would be ready so she could go to bed.


	13. The Pain

It had happened again. Helping Lord Grantham get ready for dinner, he had shifted his weight and one of the pegs had buried into his skin. He had even felt a trickle of blood running down his leg. His Lordship had noticed him wince, but Bates had managed to distract him quickly enough.

He wondered, though, if he would be this lucky the next time.

Instead of going downstairs as he was used to, when the family was having dinner, he climbed up the servants' staircase to his room. It was very painful, but he hoped it would be worth it. Maybe if he'd readjust the contraption, shifted its position a little on his leg, it would not be as painful or as evident.

Grateful that the halls were empty, he fetched a basin of clean water and took it to his bedroom. Now, more than ever, he was grateful he did not have to share a room with anybody.

After taking off his trousers with a loud groan, he sat on the bed. The braces hit the frame and the metallic sound reverberated. He could not suppress a whimper as the pegs went even further into his skin.

His leg was even more bruised, but that was barely noticeable under the many cuts and the trails of blood. Carefully, he took the contraption off. It was not really a relief. The effort put into unscrewing the pegs was painful, and, worst of all, some of the leather straps had stuck to the still open wounds. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling aloud as he removed them, one by one.

" _Steady now. Nice and quick does it." The old lady bent down and studied the pieces of gauze on his knees. Without warning she jerked the first one in a swift move. John had barely uttered a gasp when the second one came flying on his grandmother's hands. "See? The wounds are almost gone."_

What a strange memory. He had been no more than 6 years old and had scratched both knees running up and down the hills near his grandmother's house in Scotland. For a wild moment he wondered what the old lady would said, had she been able to see his limp corrector.

Still, for how long would he be able to resist the pain? Will it get any better?

With a handkerchief, he cleaned the wounds as carefully as he could. With no blood on sight, it did not look so terrible. True, the bruises were much more evident, and there were slashes and cuts, and yet… maybe because it all reminded him vaguely of the original bruises, the ones he had got after being hit on the war, it was not truly an unfamiliar sight.

Methodically, he cleaned the limp corrector, trying not to think that the rust-coloured stains were in fact more of his own blood.

He finished with a sigh. It had taken him enough time. Even though there were guests, which meant that dinner would last longer, he would be called to help Lord Grantham very soon. What if he'd take a break? What if, just for the remaining of the evening, he would not wear the contraption?

 _You can't slack. Every day, all day, if you mean business._

He forced an image on his head, of himself, finally getting rid of the walking stick. Maybe going downstairs for breakfast. Perhaps nobody would notice at first and then somebody, probably Anna, would ask how come he was not using it. And he would just smile, and say he was feeling better. Sounding nonchalant even though he would be bursting with joy.

Holding to that image, he placed the corrector on his leg again. Supposedly, he would need to adjust the length of it when his leg would get straighter. So far he had had no need to and that was almost as discouraging as the wounds.

Trying to place the pegs in the little patches of still undamaged skin, he adjusted them. The pain was there again, if something, even worse after his brief rest. He had to do it, though. He had already made his decision.

The climbing down the stairs did hurt a little less, but he still had to make an effort to keep his expression neutral.


	14. The Aftermath

Soft golden light was entering through the closed curtains. The day was starting. In a moment Daisy would knock on their door, and Gwen would wake up and call her, knowing that it was difficult for her to do so in the mornings.

She had never felt as tired as she was feeling now. Sitting up straight on her bed, head resting on the wall, wrapped in a shall, Anna closed her eyes and sighed, wishing that she could manage some sleep, at least a little. She knew she would need it later, there was a long day ahead of her and she was awake since… she could not even say when. It had proven to be the longest night of her life, and this will probably be the longest day ever.

Anna wondered what was Lady Mary doing. Lying awake in her own bed, probably. Would she be thinking about Pamuk's open, lifeless eyes? About the strange feeling of his cold body? About the trouble they all would be in if any of this was discovered? Or maybe she was thinking about whatever had happened before. What her first night with a man had been like.

No, she was certainly not. Whatever had happened between Mr Pamuk and her, Anna was sure it would be all but forgotten after the experience of having to drag his dead body through the halls.

Had she, Anna, been right, though? She could still feel Lady Mary's cold fingers on her mouth when she had sneaked into her room to wake her up, she could see her horror-struck eyes, wide with fear and confusion, when she had whispered the problem in the middle of the corridor to the servants' quarters. And it had been she, Anna, the one to suggest it. They had had to get that corpse back to the bachelor's room. What if she had been impulsive and somehow they had made it all even worse?

 _There's only one thing we can do_ , she had said to Lady Grantham later, and after a moment she had agreed. Had she been wrong?

No. There had not been any other option. Anna wished they had not need to wake up Her Ladyship, though. If only it could have been managed between Lady Mary and herself, just the two of them. Or maybe with Mr Bates' help. How strange for Lady Mary to think of him as their first choice. Of course, he would have been Anna's first choice as well. Dependable, discreet.

Impossible, though. So they had had to wake up Lady Grantham. How Lady Mary had managed, without waking up her father as well, Anna did not know.

Now she wished she was sleeping, peacefully and unaware as Gwen, as everybody in the house.

And yet, there was a small part of her that did not agree. Of all the people in the house, Lady Mary had asked _her_ to help her. Before her sisters, her own mother or... who else was there? Mrs Hughes? Mr Carson?

Despite the long night, the horrible experience of having to carry a corpse, a very heavy one and naked one, through halls and corridors, Anna felt a very peculiar pride, of her being the person Lady Mary trusted the most.

Finally there was the knock on the door and Anna jumped off the bed. Regardless of how tired she was, she had to keep herself busy. She needed to cast away the image of the Turk's empty eyes.

Mr Bates and Thomas were already downstairs. She took her usual sit as the servants' hall filled in, reaching for a cup of tea to clear her mind.

"Are you all right, Anna?" Trust Mr Bates to pay attention.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" She forced a smile at him, but he did not return it.

"You look as if you hadn't slept a wink last night."

"Do I?" She had not even realised it, but there were probably dark shadows under her eyes. "As a matter of fact I didn't get much sleep." She tried hard to keep her tone casual. "A bit of an upset stomach."

"You should have told me," Mrs Hughes intervened, taking her seat as the men around the table stood up respectfully. "I could have given you something."

"Thanks, Mrs Hughes, but there was no need. Really." She faced both pairs of concerned eyes. "I'm feeling much better now, only a tad tired."

Lady Mary's bell rung, much earlier than normal. Anna had not been mistaken; she had been awake, too.

"Here we go," she muttered, hurrying off to check on her tray.

Lady Mary looked as if she had gone without sleeping not for a night, but for a fortnight. Her eyes were red, her skin much paler than usual.

"Have you managed some sleep?" She asked Anna.

"Not really, m'lady." Anna said, busying over a cup of tea.

There was silence for a moment.

"Could you tell Carson I won't be coming down for breakfast?" Lady Mary said suddenly. "I couldn't... I can't face them..."

"Of course, m'lady." Anna gave her the cup and saucer, and Lady Mary took it with a slightly trembling hand. "I'll bring you something to eat."

"I don't think I could touch a bite… but still, we have to keep the appearances, don't we?"

She nodded. Sitting on her bed, pale and eyes wide open while sipping on her tea, Lady Mary looked both young and very worn out. Anna wished there was something she could do to comfort her, but nothing came.

"I'll bring the tray in a moment," she finally said, with a small smile.

"Thank you," Lady Mary said, and sensing the tone of dismissal, Anna turned around. "Anna…"

She turned around, her hand on the door. "My Lady?"

"I just want… thank you. I wouldn't have known what…"

"Don't think about it anymore, m'lady." Anna said, nodding. "It'll get better."

Lady Mary made a sound of disbelief, but managed a smile.

The moment Anna stepped downstairs she knew the alarm had been sound. The hall was crowded, even though breakfast upstairs was about to be served. Even Mrs Patmore was standing there, looking at Thomas with wide eyes.

"- just lying on his bed. Eyes open" he was saying, a note of panic in his voice, for one his perfect composure crumbling.

"Are you sure?" Mr Carson said. At his back, Mrs Hughes hushed at the whispering staff.

"Of course I'm sure. I… I dropped the tray, and went to him. Cold as stone."

Mr Carson's eyes were wide open and for a moment he was at a loss of what to say. "Come with me, Thomas. We'll have to inform His Lordship. You too, Mr Bates."

The three men passed next to her, standing on the threshold. Suddenly Anna felt as if every eye was on her.

"Mr Pamuk is dead," Gwen informed her.

"That's what… I can't believe it." She was sure it was obvious she was lying, but somehow everybody returned to their own whispering.

"Daisy, we need to get those trays ready! William! Take that one upstairs! Now!" Anna had never been more grateful or fond of the cook.

Mrs Hughes followed her example and ordered the maids to go back upstairs to tend to the rooms. Anna followed Gwen to the kitchen. "Lady Mary is feeling ill, Mrs Patmore. I shall take her a try."

The cook grunted something and Anna set to work.

"What do you think he died of?" Gwen whispered.

"How should I know?" Anna prompted.

"Maybe he was killed. There was that political thing, wasn't it?"

"Honestly, Gwen! That's an awful thing to say," Anna snapped, moving over the counter to scoop some eggs. Another cry from Mrs Patmore made Gwen go help William, and with a big sigh of relief, Anna finished the tray and took it upstairs, avoiding both gossip and eye contact on her way up.

Lady Mary had recovered a little. By the time Anna left her room, she was almost back to her usual, brisk self, although she very much suspected it was really a facade. Still, it was better to see her like that. She had not met Lady Grantham, and would not, for all the money of the world, ask O'Brien about her, but she wondered how Her Ladyship was feeling. Would she say she was ill, too, to excuse herself from greeting the visitors? Or would she manage to come downstairs as if nothing had happened?

"Have you told Lady Mary?" Mr Bates' voice at her back made her jump. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," Anna said with what felt as the hundredth forced smile of the day.

"So did you? How did she take it?"

"She was… shaken, of course." Anna continued walking towards the service staircase, Mr Bates followed her.

"I thought she had taken a fancy on the man."

"She might have. It's not important now."

"No, it's not." Mr Bates opened the door for her, he looked concerned.

"What did His Lordship say?" she asked quickly, to change the subject.

"He could not believe it at first. Then he was all business and told us to wake up Mr Napier. He and Mr Carson will take care of the arrangements."

Fortunately, breakfast was enough of a chaotic event to keep everybody busy, but that did nothing to stop them gossiping the moment they entered the servant's stairs. William was talking about an uncle who had died.

"That's why you should treat every day as if it was your last," Gwen said, more practically now the notice had sunk in.

"Well," Thomas said with a crooked smile, "we couldn't criticise Mr Pamuk where that's concerned."

Anna's insides froze.

"What do you mean?" Daisy prompted.

"Nothing," he said calmly. "Careful with that." And he left, leaving Anna wondering if it was possible the footman knew something, or if he was just showing off for some reason unknown to her.

"You're very quiet," Gwen said, looking at her.

"There's a corpse upstairs. What would you like me to do? Sing?"*

* * *

 **AN:** *These last two lines come from the Script Book. I'm sorry they had to take them; Anna's answer is a good one.

When I first watched the series, I thought the whole idea of Mary going to wake up Anna, and her being the only one able to remain calm and know what to do, very very powerful. I've been writing this chapter in my head forever.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!


	15. The Secret

He was relieved; there was no reason for denying it. Disappointed, too, but mostly relieved. At some point he had realised the limp corrector would not work, but stubbornly he had kept on using it. He had needed somebody to actually tell him that, in order to be convinced of getting rid of the thing.

Mrs Hughes had been that somebody, and if he was to be honest, he was grateful.

They were both walking back to the house, after throwing the metal contraption to the lake. The housekeeper was slowing her own pace to match his; he was limping more than ever, but now he knew the wounds would heal, and the bruises, disappear.

"You go ahead, Mrs Hughes," he said when both reached the courtyard. "I'd rather fancy a bit of fresh air."

The housekeeper squinted her eyes at him and both knew what she was thinking.

"I won't be diving into the lake to retrieve it, if that's what you're afraid of," Bates said.

"I'd hope not," she answered curtly, but then she smiled and went inside.

Yes, Bates was relieved, but also sad. For a moment he had hoped, dreamed, imagined his life would be better, and now it all lay at the bottom of the lake, literally and metaphorically.

A movement on the back of the courtyard made him look around. Anna was sitting on a pile of empty crates, almost invisible from the entrance to the kitchens. Out of an impulse, he limped towards her.

She smiled at him and he was glad she did not seem to think he was interrupting.

"Are you hiding?" he asked her.

"No, not hiding. Just came here for a little time on my own."

"I'll leave you to it, then," he said smiling, to let her know he was not offended.

"Don't. I didn't mean you." She moved to the side, the invitation was clear and he took a sit next to her.

For a moment none of them said anything. Anna was still looking tired, and he was sure there was something else, something bothering her, but he had no idea how to ask her. He racked his brains for something, a statement that would get an answer from her, the right question… Maybe honesty was the best approach.

"I was about to ask you if you were all right," he finally said.

"I'm f-"

"You're fine. I knew you'd say that. And I suspect it's not true."

She looked at her own shoes but he could see a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I don't have the right to ask, though," Bates stated.

"Don't you?" Anna looked up at him again.

"No, I don't think I do. Because you've been asking me for the past few days if _I_ am all right, and I've said I am-"

"Even though it was a lie," she said.

"Even though it wasn't exactly true," he corrected.

"You said so yourself. A man's got to have some secrets." Now she was smiling, teasingly, and he was happy she was looking more like her usual self. "Suppose you're right."

"Probably, but then you said one can have too many. And you're right too."

She shrugged, but did not say a thing.

"I'm better, by the way." He said with a sigh he could not control. "I wasn't all right, evidently. But you might want to know I am now… at least, I'll get there."

She was still silent for a moment. "Thank you for telling me. I was rather worried." She finally said, looking at his leg.

"Well, this won't be all right, no matter what," he said grimly, pointing at it. She just rolled his eyes at him. "I'm fine. And I am being honest."

Now it was her turn to sigh. "I'll be fine," she finally said. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more. I really am. I only wish…" she trailed off.

He smiled. It felt like a small victory. "I know you'll be fine, you're strong."

She chuckled, and he had the feeling that something he said carried a special meaning for her.

"I just want you to know," Bates carried on, "I'm more than willing to help you through it, whatever it is, if you want my help."

"You're very kind, Mr Bates," she said, now looking into his eyes. There were still dark shadows under hers and she looked pale, but her smile was genuine. "But you know… in our work, sometimes there are secrets that are not ours to share."

"I know," he said. "Don't let them burden you, though. After all, those are not _your_ secrets."

Anna shrugged. "We better get inside."

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks very much to you all!

I have a question, posed by Shani21 on a review: "where was the dressing gown?". Pamuk came into Mary's room with one, and then we see the three women carrying him back without it. Made me think.

Cheers!


	16. The New Year

Upstairs they would take longer than usual to go to bed after dinner. After all, this was the last night of the year and even though they would not really celebrate it, the way they did with Christmas, they would linger for a while. That was what had happened every year Anna had been at Downton.

Downstairs, taking advantage of the unusual quiet, dinner was taking a tad longer, for once the servants lingering to speak and share the festive atmosphere, instead of rushing to their beds for a well-earned and much desired rest.

Mr Carson was giving the opposite end of the table serious looks now and then, aimed to sober up the younger staff. Still, he was in a good mood, that part was clear from the way he would let them all chat freely while he was doing the same with Mrs Hughes.

At Anna's side, Mr Bates was quiet, although he looked as if he was enjoying the general atmosphere. The maids and footmen were sharing hopes for the year to come, and even though some of them were far-fetched, they were all having a good time sharing their daydreams.

"What do you hope for next year, then?" Mr Bates voice was quiet. This was one of those private conversations they were having more and more frequently these days, sharing some sort of place of their own in a room full of people.

Anna smiled at him, looking for those tell-tale wrinkles around his eyes that confirmed he was actually happy. Only, this was not a question she was ready to answer. Not to him, at least.

"I'm… I don't really hope for anything in particular."

"I find that hard to believe," he said softly. "You wish for nothing?"

She felt a heat on her cheeks, "not exactly. I do wish for things. Only… I suppose things are working out for me right now. I might just be hoping for them to stay."

He looked at her for a moment and she felt slightly exposed. Still, she did not look away. "What about you, Mr Bates?"

He chuckled. "I have everything I need right here with me." Anna's heart gave a funny jump, but he continued. "A roof over my head, a work I don't dislike, decent people around."

Of course, he was not talking about her the way she would wish him too. He was just speaking in general terms.

"Decent, huh?" she said, with a little nod towards Miss O'Brien. She did not really care what he would say. She just needed for the conversation to go elsewhere, before she'd made a fool of herself.

"Mostly decent," he amended.

They both stayed silent. In front of her, Thomas was telling a story to a somewhat captive audience of maids.

"It has been a very good year," Mr Bates spoke again and Anna looked at him. He was looking at a breadcrumb in his hand. "If you'd told me only last New Year's Eve I would be sitting in a place like this, enjoying a moment like this, I wouldn't have believed it."

"What did you do last year on new year's eve?"

Mr Bates looked from his crumb to the wall in front of him and back again. Unexpectedly, he chuckled. "Not believing," he said with a grin.

"Pardon me?"

"As a matter of fact, somebody was telling me, only a year ago, that things would get better and I would be on a better position… I guess I owe her an apology."

"Her?" Anna asked before thinking, a cold pang of jealousy hitting her in the guts. Surely not… and then, what if he did have somebody special back home? He had never told he did not…

"My mother," he answered. She almost sighed aloud. _His mother_.

Lady Edith's bell rung and it took Anna a moment to react. With a sigh and a smile, she stood up and climbed up the stairs, glad to have an excuse not to stay where she was, being consumed by thoughts that were not really for her to think, not to mention feelings things that were absolutely inappropriate. That was not her, she reminded herself; for her it was all about the present, and the bright sides of things, and "what ifs" would not take her anywhere useful.

By the time she had finished with the girls, it was past midnight. The old year was gone, and 1913 was starting, a brand new year full of surprises and possibilities. With a content sigh, she arranged on her arm the dress she was carrying downstairs to clean.

Mr Bates was walking a little ahead. At the soft sound of her closing the door he turned around and beamed at her. Anna did the same as she approached him.

"All tucked up?" he asked.

"Bedtime stories and all," Anna grinned. Mr Bates chuckled, and opened the door for the servants' stair for her. "Thank you."

"Actually I wanted to thank you… you made me think."

"Me? About what?"

"Well," he said, closing the door at his back, "I do seem to have plenty of reasons to be grateful of the year that had passed."

She did not know what to say. It was both a happy and a sad statement. What sort of condition had he been before coming to Downton? Anna remembered that night when they had thought he would be leaving and she had seen him sob desperately. It must have been very hard.

"I'm grateful you're here," she said, feeling very bold.

He smiled. "Good night, Anna, and a very happy new year to you."

"Good night, Mr Bates."

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks very very much for reading and reviewing! Things will move on, I promise.


	17. The Flat

Bates did not really know what to do with his free afternoon. It was not enough a time to pay a visit to his mother, and there was nobody else he particularly wanted to see. Nobody else outside Downton, if he wanted to be honest. He even allowed himself for a fleeting moment to wish Anna would have her free afternoon the same day as he had his, and if she would consider to walk with him somewhere-

He stopped the thought before it turned out into something different. Truth was he had found himself more and more drawn to the head housemaid and her witty retorts. They shared a similar sense of humour and sometimes he would catch her eye at meals and he would have the distinct impression she was sharing his thoughts.

She was proving to be quite an interesting friend. And, certainly, that was the only thing he could expect her to be, despite having caught himself staring at her retreating figure more than once, or revelling in the way the corners of her mouth would twitch when she was about to smile, and wish to know what that mouth would taste like.

No. Those were the thoughts that he ought to supress for good.

Besides, none of that provided a solution as to what to do with his afternoon off. Dawdling a little, he put on his coat and headed outside. A small walk to the village was probably the only sensible thing he could do.

War, prison, and what felt like a lifetime of very unpleasant marital experiences, had taken their toll on Bates. When first coming back from Africa it had taken him quite a few months to stop flinching whenever there was a loud noise. He hated mosquitoes more than what was reasonable. He would not drink alcohol anymore. And whenever he had to leave home, he felt some sort of urge to come back even minutes afterwards.

It was silly, he knew it. And yet, not for the first time since his arrival, when he headed back to Downton after an hour of walking around the village, his pace quickened, as much as his limp would allow it, and he almost sighed in relief by the time he had reached his bedroom in order to change for dinner.

Free afternoons seemed to make him prone to memories, too.

 _The day Bates went out of prison, he had come home to learn he no longer had a home. No particularly eager to see Vera, who had stopped visiting him and writing to him so long ago he could not even remember, he felt nonetheless that their flat was the place he was supposed to go to after his release from prison._

 _Tired, with this new very irritating limp, casualty of a fight he had had with an inmate not very long ago, he found it difficult to climb up the stairs. Prison, of course, would not provide him with a cane; now that he was out he supposed he would need to get one, soon._

 _When he finally reached the landing, he hesitated for a second. He really did not want to step back into his old life. He did not want to go back to Vera and the yelling and the bottles. He smiled dryly. Following that line of thought, prison had not been that bad._

 _He had made his resolutions in the unending days and nights he had had to think about it. Now it was just time to inform his wife._

 _Bates knocked on the door and waited. He suspected Vera was still in bed, too early for her to go anywhere or to have drunk anything. A moment later, heavy steps approached the door and a middle-age man opened it. Confusion and indignation washed over Bates at once. Did Vera have no decency at all that she would bring lovers to their house? The man, on the other hand, looked politely curious._

" _Can I help you?" he said, adjusting his braces. It was plain he had been in the process of getting dressed._

" _I am looking for Vera," Bates managed, not sure exactly how to proceed, or if he should punch this man in the face instead of asking questions. Certainly, he had known even before going to prison that Vera had not been faithful, and now he really did not wish to be back with her, so what was the matter if she had a man after all his time in prison? Was it just a matter of property or manly pride?_

" _Vera?" The man said, clearly confused._

" _Bates. Vera Bates." For a second Bates thought she might be using her maiden name, but he dismissed the idea. In all his time in South Africa Vera might not have been the ideal wife, but she had made a point of keeping the name._

" _I don't… I don't think I know any Vera Bates, sir." The man said, slowly. "Although it does seem to ring a bell."_

 _Bates frowned. Had he had the wrong address? Impossible! Vera and he had lived in this flat for years! He remembered renting it, choosing the colour of the walls, settling in their scarce furniture…_

" _Give me a moment, please," the unknown man said. "I'll ask the wife."_

 _He left the door ajar and stepped inside. Bates could make part of the interior. He could not recognise any of the items inside. Even the colour of the walls was different. Surely she had not-_

 _The man was back. "I knew it sounded familiar," he said. "Mrs Bates is the woman who sold us the house."_

 _His worst fears had come to reality. "Wh- when?" he stammered._

" _That was… well, more than a year ago for sure," he thought about it, counting with his fingers. "The wife was pregnant then… yes, it was almost two years ago."_

" _I see," Bates managed. White hot fury started to rise inside him. "I apologise for having interrupted you this early."_

 _The man looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry I don't have good news. I can't even tell you where she's now. She did not leave an address and we never thought we ought to ask."_

" _Of course not. Thank you."_

 _Leaning heavily on the railing, Bates started to climb down._

He looked at his own image in the small mirror of his room. He did not look much older than when he had gone to prison, but he certainly looked different. The clothes, the feeling of safety, the fact that he had now spent almost three years without a drop of alcohol, it all summed up to this new version of himself. One he certainly liked a lot more.

Bates gave a tiny nod to his own reflection and exited the room, right when he heard Mr Carson's gong. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing! You people make my day!


	18. The Maid

" _-not the sort of book a Lady would read, let alone at your age!" Anna stopped on her tracks. Eavesdropping was high on Mrs Hughes list of what a proper housemaid ought not to do, but the voice was loud and, through the open door of Lady Mary's bedroom, it carried easily into the corridor. "It is just inadmissible." Ida was the head housemaid, and every maid knew she had made scolding an art and a mission. Still, Anna was not sure if it was her place to talk like that to one of the girls. "Wait until your mother hears of this!"_

 _Anna risked peeking through the half-open door. Lady Mary was standing next to the window, eyes wide open and paler than usual. Anna had never seen her this scared before; she was actually speechless, and she was known both upstairs and down for being the one with the witty answer and the quick tongue. Her back to her, Ida was carrying on with her ranting; she was not only not questioning if it was her place to scold one of the Earl's daughters, but apparently she was even enjoying the situation thoroughly._

" _Now what on Earth were you doing with a book like this?" she yelled, brandishing a small, leather bound black book in front of the girl's face._

 _Lady Mary opened her mouth but nothing came. A fraction of a second later, before even consider if this was a good idea, Anna was inside the room. "I'm ever so sorry Ida."_

 _The formidable head housemaid turned around and Anna was suddenly aware how tall she was. "What is it?!" she roared._

" _It's- you see, that book-" she looked at Lady Mary. Her mouth was still open, but her horror-struck expression was changing into bewilderment. "It's mine." Anna said._

" _Yours?!" Ida gave two steps and was now so close to Anna it was quite uncomfortable. "Are you telling me this- this rubbish is yours?" She waved the book under Anna's nose. At her back, Lady Mary's eyes were pleading._

" _It is," Anna said, and she was surprised her voice was not quivering, even though her whole body felt shaky._

" _And what is your book doing inside Lady Mary's bedroom?"_

" _I… must have dropped it." Anna was racking her brain furiously for some coherent story. "I had it inside the pocket of my apron after breakfast and forgot to take it to my room. Then I realised I didn't have it, after Marge and I went through the rooms."_

 _Ida looked at her sharply. Trying to look rightfully ashamed, Anna looked at her own feet._

" _You know there is no reason for you to carry a book to your duties! Let alone have it in your possession!"_

 _Anna opened her mouth, but decided to close it again. What was wrong exactly about her having books?_

" _Why didn't you say a thing, m'lady?" Ida's tone towards Lady Mary had changed dramatically. She was still sneering a tad, but the triumphant ring of moments before was gone._

" _I would've," Lady Mary replied, looking at the tall housemaid with a contempt Anna could not help but admire, "only you were enjoying your scolding so much you would not let me put in a word. I was hoping you'd get tired."_

 _Ida's face was red now. Lady Mary was the Earl's daughter all right, but then she was also a sixteen year-old girl. She was sure it was quite hard for Ida to be talked like that by her. She turned around to face Anna and she involuntarily flinched. "Mrs Hughes would have to know about this."_

" _I don't see why," Lady Mary spoke hastily._

" _I beg your pardon, m'lady, but of course you wouldn't. After all," Ida's contempt was quite a match, "you're not in charge of the staff." She walked pass Anna towards the door. "Come, Anna," she called._

" _M'lady," Anna said to Lady Mary. The young lady did not make a sound._

 _Climbing down the stairs at the wake of Ida, Anna started regretting her impulsiveness. What she was risking, she was not sure, but certainly Mrs Hughes would have a lot to say about all this… and she did not even know what all the fuss about that wretched book was about! And all for what? Lady Mary had not even looked at her, let alone acknowledged her help! What would have happened to Lady Mary if Ida had actually told Her Ladyship about the book? Some more scolding? On the other hand she, Anna, could very well be risking her job._

 _Half an hour later she was facing the housekeeper, hands sweaty and trying hard for her story to make sense and her voice not to sound weak._

" _I would never had guessed you'd be interested in this sort of literature." Mrs Hughes looked at the closed book on her desk with contempt._

" _I'm not exactly very interested. Just… curious."_

" _And where did you even get this, to begin with?"_

" _It was a gift," Anna improvised. "A cousin sent it to me not long ago." Would Mrs. Hughes remember she had not received a parcel in quite a long time?_

" _It was still very foolish, girl, to let it drop upstairs. And in a room! I suppose we have to be grateful you're not in charge of Her Ladyship's."_

" _Yes Mrs Hughes," how long would this take? When was she going to know about her punishment? The housekeeper remained silent for a moment and Anna could not bear it. "I am ever so sorry, Mrs Hughes. Truly. I just… I promise I will never take a thing I'm not supposed to upstairs. And… I'll stay off that sort of books from now on."_

" _Very well," the housekeeper said with a sigh. "I certainly hope you will. Because I am very disappointed in you, Anna."_

 _She bowed her head, cheeks burning with shame even knowing she was not guilty._

" _Off you go now," she added._

 _Anna was heading to the door. Only, "excuse me, Mrs Hughes."_

" _Yes?"_

" _If it is not much of a bother… Could I have the… my book back? I don't really want to read it, promise! I just… it was a gift and it has a value…" She was not making sense, but suddenly she had realised she would have to make sure that book would find its way back to Lady Mary's bedroom._

" _Oh, all right," Mrs Hughes grunted. "And mind you keep it hidden. I don't want the younger maids to get any ideas!"_

 _Anna took the book and almost run outside. For how Ida had been yelling, she had expected something much, much worse. She looked at the book in her hands. How would she take it back to Lady Mary and where should she hide it once it get there, she had no idea, but she had to put it away before it caused more trouble._

 _Her answer did not come until two days later, when she and Marge were tidying up the young lady's room._

 _"Marge?" Lady Mary's voice coming from the open door made the two maids almost jump. At this time of the day the family had rarely a reason to come back to their rooms. "Could you please go to see about my riding boots? I'll need them this afternoon."_

 _Marge looked puzzled for a moment. "Of course, m'lady." She was in charge of tending to the girls after all._

" _And please, find Lynch and tell him to get Cassiopeia ready."_

 _The maid nodded and left. Anna did not know what to say, so she continued with the bed until she heard the door close._

 _"Anna?" Lady Mary did not sound as her usual brisk self._

 _"M'lady?" Anna turned around to face her. Even though she would dress almost as an adult now, Lady Mary still had a bit of a gangly look. She was the same height as Anna but the latter suspected she'd be much taller in the near future._

 _"Thank you so much for saving my skin the other day," Lady Mary was fidgeting with her own hands. "I hope I didn't get you in a lot of trouble."_

 _"Not a lot," Anna smiled. "You saw the worst of it with Ida."_

 _"What a horrible, horrible woman."_

 _Anna wanted to agree wholeheartedly but she dare not. "Would you like your book now?"_

 _Lady Mary's usually pale cheeks went furiously red. "I thought Mrs Hughes would've burnt it."_

 _"I reckon she considered it," both women chuckled. "It's in my room. I can go and fetch it if you like."_

 _"Have you read it?"_

 _Anna shook her head. A glimpse at a couple of pages had been enough to imagine the reaction of Lady Grantham, or worse, the Dowager, if they ever learned Lady Mary was already interested in such graphic details of that part of a woman's life. "I've had enough of the book without needing to open it."_

 _"I am sorry you were in trouble because of it. I'll have to be more careful next time."_

 _Anna wondered if it was wise for the young lady to make plans for a next time but she did not say it._

 _"You don't approve," Lady Mary stated._

 _"It's not my place to approve or not, m'lady."_

 _"And yet Ida and Marge usually think it's theirs..." Lady Mary trailed off. "Do you know how to fix a hairstyle?" The question took Anna by surprise. Lady Mary's plait looked as perfect as Marge would make it, where was she going with this?_

 _"I do my own, and I've had a tad of practice with some of the maids."_

 _Lady Mary looked at her thoughtfully. Anna could practically see an idea forming inside her head and she could not help feeling uneasy._

 _"You should learn. How's your sewing?"_

 _Suddenly Anna thought she understood. Was this turning into a very strange job interview of sorts? "Quite good, m'lady, if I can say so myself."_

 _"Would I notice?"_

 _Anna took the hem of her apron and looked for the recently repaired gash. "Can you see that?"_

 _"Barely."_

 _Anna smiled proudly._

 _"Would you be willing to learn? Hairstyles, fashion and such?"_

 _Anna squinted her eyes, unable to keep on guessing. "Could I ask what this is about, m'lady?"_

 _The question made Lady Mary laugh, although Anna failed to see the fun in it. "It's about me not wanting Marge to help me anymore. Do you fancy becoming a lady's maid?"_

" _Pardon me, m'lady, but I rather doubt you'll be allowed to have one before… before you get married. Unless you're already thinking-"_

" _Of course not! Don't be silly," Lady Mary waved a hand. "Not now, of course. But some training would be needed. For the future. So, if I'd arrange for you to take classes, would you agree to?"_

 _Anna could barely believe this. "What would your mother say?"_

" _Let me take care of her."_

The site of the fair was full with noises, but Anna was successfully ignoring them all in favour of Lady Mary.

"- When she dies they'll cut her open and find it engraved on her heart."

"What about you? What about your heart?" It was not frequent for her to ask such blunt questions to Lady Mary, but from time to time, Anna had the feeling there was a need for her to do so.

"Haven't you heard?" she spoke lightly. "I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that."

She had learned to read her pain. On times like this, Anna wondered if a hug or even a pat on the back would help. "Not me, m'lady."

* * *

 **AN:** Although not exactly related to their relationship, I like these last two chapters. I like to think about Bates and Anna having a past, and a life of their own, before getting together.

Thank you very much to all of you, especially to those who took some time to review, and amongst them, Guests reviewers whom I cannot thank directly.


	19. The Wish

He wished he had not noticed, and even if he had, he wished it was not as important for him as it was. But the fact remained that after helping the girls out of their evening dresses, Anna had not come down again.

Of course she was probably tired after a long day, who wouldn't be in her place?

He understood, but he was sorry nonetheless. Now that she was not there, he realised he had gotten used to that moment at night, before going to bed, when they would meet in the servants' hall for a last cup of tea and some chat.

Maybe she was outside? It was not common of her, but the days and nights were getting warmer. With a little anticipation, Bates headed to the courtyard, almost imagining what sort of conversation they could have.

Anna was no-where to be seen; he could not deny he was disappointed. The courtyard was not empty though. Young William was there, sitting on a bench and looking at the starry sky. He seemed to be the living image of misery and it did not take much to guess the reason. She was probably asleep now, after a hard day of helping out Mrs Patmore, and oblivious to the turmoil she was causing in the young footman.

"A penny for your thoughts." Bates asked, even though he knew.

"You'd be wasting your money," William sighed, trying to sound cheerful.

"It's mine to waste."

The footman looked up the sky again. "I was just wondering," he started slowly, choosing his words carefully, "why we get so drawn to people who have no interest in us. What's nature playing at?"

What, indeed? Bates almost chuckled out loud from the irony of the situation.

"If you find the answer to that, lad, you'll put the poets out of business."

William was smiling a little sadly. "But you can't make someone love you, can you?"

Bates smiled and shook his head. "No." The image of the head housemaid he had been hoping to find here filled his mind. He was not a proud man, but there were all those conversations, smiles and glances... Maybe she was not in love with him, but it was clear there was an interest. "And you can't make them _not_ love you either. Which can be just as hard." He said before thinking.

It was hard. Also because it was his fault. He knew he ought to avoid her. To stop looking for her in packed rooms and making a beeline for her; or engage with her in hushed conversations and share so much of who he was now. It was hard and unfair, to both of them.

"I wouldn't know about that." William said.

"Not yet, maybe, but you will."*

The footman nodded, even though it was plain he did not believe a word, and, without saying anything else, went inside.

Of course he needed to stop looking for Anna. He would think about her, probably, as he did lately. Whenever his mind would be idle, she would be there, the memory of her laugh, or of the latest comment she had made; there did not seem to be a way to avoid it. He could avoid her, though. He should.

His mind seemed to have a will of its own, though, and no soon he had made that decision, he was wondering if she was in bed already. A striking image, a fantasy really, of how would she look with her hair down, wearing nothing but a light nightdress, took over his senses and surprised himself. Without thinking, he punched the wall behind him.

It was certainly not fair. His poor judgement and his bad choices would haunt him forever. Now, inevitably, he would drag her with him.

And yet, everything around her, including himself, felt so very, very right.

* * *

Too soon, the fates had granted him a wish he had not dared to ask for. There she had stood, so much perfect than any of his fantasies. Her shoulders wrapped in a shawl, her body covered in a light, white nightgown, she had looked small, pale, and for a wild second Bates imagined dropping the tray and just taking her in his arms, keeping her warm and thus, feel as alive as only Anna could make him feel.

She had looked incredulously at him and after some hesitation, she had taken the tray. In the swift movement he had seen her bare forearms, the strength of her muscles, the tantalising opening of the nightgown, the curve of her neck, much more evident without the many starched layers of clothing of her uniform.

When he had looked down to see that the tray was secure in her hands, he had seen she was barefoot. An almost forgotten thrill had run down his spine at the sight of her ankle and he had hastily looked up, into her eyes.

He could get lost in those eyes and, for a moment, he very nearly did, unable and unwilling to move. A noise at his back startled them both and, still beaming, Anna retreated and closed the door.

Even when hours had passed, those tantalising images would not leave him. In the solitude of his room, he had long ago realised he was not taking a word of the book he had been trying to read. Now, sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, he had surrendered to the images; it had been so long since he had let his fantasies entertain him.

Perfect, pale skin, soft against his palms. Lips, slightly parted, touching his. Tentatively, at first; enthusiastically a moment later. He could practically feel the heat of her body on his, moving. It was even possible to imagine how her voice would be a whisper in his ear, and how he would make her his.

Bates closed his eyes and sighed impatiently. There was no point torturing himself with the impossible. The images were enjoyable, yes, but useless. They would not calm his urge, but make it worse. It was more than evident how far away she was, how far away they both were from his dreams. His past mistakes made it clear; he did not deserve such perfection in his life.

And yet, hadn't he fought to made amends? Hadn't he tried to lead an honourable life, a sober life? Hadn't he even tried to do the right thing with Vera? How many years of penance would make him worthy of her? What if... ? He almost forced the thought to form in his head. What if this _was_ the right thing? Somebody had put Anna in his life because, by some strange luck he did not understand or deserve, he could make her happy… he could be worthy of her?

There was one course of action, if that was the case, and as much as he hated to imagine _her_ back in his life, it was necessary, of course, in order to do the proper thing.

With a heavy sigh, Bates stood up and grabbed a piece of paper from his chest of drawers. He needed to be careful, now. One word, one badly phrased idea, and this could end very, very wrongly.

 _Dear Vera…_

* * *

 **AN:** I am in love with the tray scene. Their body language is just amazing. It has been written many, many times, but I wanted to give it a go.

Thank you very much for reading and reviewing! Special thanks to the Guest reviewers I couldn't answer back personally. What are your thoughts on series 6? I'm just keeping my fingers crossed.

Cheers!

* Deleted scene from the Script Book.


	20. The Trip

Anna took her usual sit next to Mr Bates' empty one with a sigh and reached for a much needed early morning cup of tea. With him, Mr Carson, Miss O'Brien and Thomas gone, everything looked strangely large. The long hours cleaning the day before had left her tired, even if she had gone to bed early. How hot the season was turning out to be, did nothing to improve her mood.

The family had left for London less than two weeks ago and she was already missing them. Missing him, to tell the truth.

She had gotten a letter from Mr Bates some days ago, which meant that he had lost no time in writing to her after going away. It had been a thrilling realisation, and she had enjoyed every word, even if the message had been a short one. Now, after posting her reply, she had to wait for his next, if there was to be one, and in the meantime the long hours of going over every room in the house were a grim perspective.

Somebody knocked at the back door and a moment later William came, carrying a small envelope.

"Telegram for you Mrs Hughes."

Anna's hand froze in mid-air. Mrs Hughes looked puzzled, and hastily opened the envelope. The only times she had gotten telegrams before, something had been going wrong at the house in London.

"It's… oh well…" she looked at the table at large. Except for the younger staff at the other end, William and the maids had her eyes fixed on her. "They want you in London, Anna," she finally said.

"Me?" she looked blankly at the housekeeper. It was obvious who _they_ were. There was something else that was no clear at all. "Why me?"

"It doesn't say," she passed the small piece of paper.

 _Anna is needed for the rest of the season. Send her tomorrow 9am._

"For the rest-" Anna's heart leaped. Was it possible? "But what about here?" she felt she had the duty to ask. "The house?"

Mrs Hughes sighed. "We'll have to manage with the rest of the maids. And William."

She should be sorry for the extra load of work for everybody, and for leaving Mrs Hughes without a head housemaid, but the truth was she did not. As she packed her uniforms and her Sunday best in her small battered suitcase, she was so excited she felt the next day could not arrive soon enough. Even though the telegram had been brief, she knew what it probably meant. They would not need another housemaid; if that had been the case, they would have hired somebody from London. No, they needed a lady's maid for the girls. Something must have happened with the one they kept in London, so they were sending for her.

She knew it was wrong, but she could not help feeling proud.

And, of course, there was the fact that she would see him before she had hoped to.

That night she went to bed late, staying with Mrs Hughes to help her organise the work at the house, and finally feeling a tad guilty.

"This might be a nice opportunity for you," Mrs Hughes had finally said, before both women turned in. "A fortnight in London."

"I expect there'll be plenty of work," Anna said.

"I don't doubt it," Mrs Hughes added, but the housemaid knew what this was about, just as she knew the housekeeper had noticed. Her being there was a promotion of sorts.

The next day it all happened so quickly that by the time Anna found herself sitting on a third class carriage, as the train started to gain speed, it felt as if she had woken up mere minutes before.

She had been at Grantham's house before, on rare occasions that an extra maid had been needed for a day or two, and thus summoned from Downton. She had never stayed long, though, and was not very familiar with the servants' quarters. Mrs Bute, the housekeeper, showed her the room she would be sharing with other two housemaids. Having been picked up at King's Cross by the London's chauffeur, Anna had not yet seen a familiar face and, even though it was silly, she was starting to feel a little edgy.

It would soon be time for the servants' tea, though, and she knew she was bound to see them, at least Mr Carson and Thomas, if not the rest. She had been right. The moment she stepped downstairs Mr Bates voice felt warm and welcoming as a hug.

"Anna! I thought you'd come in the afternoon train."

"Hello, Mr Bates," were his eyes lingering on hers for a split second longer than what was necessary? "I came in the 9 am."

"Must have been a last minute decision," he said, and then he added, lowering his voice. "And quite a welcomed one."

She smiled. "What's the emergency, then?"

"You're not that important, you know," O'Brien's voice came from the stairs and Anna almost smiled.

"And it's so nice to see you, too," she said cheekily. Mr Bates chuckled and the lady's maid walked by into the hall, ignoring them. "I see some things don't change," Anna added.

"They don't," Mr Bates said, gesturing towards the hall, where a maid was finishing settling the table.

Mr Carson entered right after. "Ah, Anna. You're to take care of the girls," he said without preamble. "The local maid who was helping them turned out to be… unsuitable." He exchanged a look with the housekeeper.

Anna nodded. It was exactly as she had imagined it. She waited for the rest of the staff to fill in and engage in conversation before turning to Mr Bates.

"What did he mean with 'unsuitable'?", she said softly.

Mr Bates gave her a quick smile. "It's not really the mark of a good maid when they go away with two pairs of earrings and a brooch."

"She never did!" It was a scandalised whisper.

"Oh yes."

"No wonder Mr Carson is in such a bad mood."

"We've had a couple of very uncomfortable days," Mr Bates nodded.

Anna looked at him with sympathy.

"I won't complain, though," he added, smiling at the food being placed in front of him and placing his napkin on his lap. Anna could not help but smile at the so very familiar movement.

"I suppose not," she said, trying to focus in the conversation. "Tending to the girls is extra work for O'Brien, not for you."

"It's not that at all." He chuckled. "You're here."

* * *

 **AN:** And tomorrow night is the last Downton Night before the CS. I'm both excited and dreading the cliffhanger. And a tad sad it will be over.

So, let's lake refuge in Series 1, shall us? Thanks very much to all of you!


	21. The Errand

For Bates, the London season combined moments of hard, quick work, with large periods of inactivity, whenever the family was entertaining on calling on acquaintances. It suited him well, now that he had started with the very unpleasant mission of having to find his wife.

Until that day it had proven to be a dull, pointless endeavour. And a painful one. She had not answered any of the letters he had sent to all the possible addresses he could think of. Revisiting the places that she could still go to was, sometimes, reliving some of the memories of one of the darkest times in his life. All for what? He had not met a single soul that could tell him where she might be.

And then the letter arrived. A short missive by one Miss Malone, with whom she had worked some years ago. She had answered Bates's request; she might have an address and she would look for it.

He was on the process of re-reading the short note. The possibility of an address was much better than nothing. Although he would scold himself for doing something as foolish as hope, he could not stop it. Maybe, maybe he would be able to find the elusive Vera, and then maybe...

Steps climbing down the stairs stop the thought right when it was getting dangerous, and he hastened to hide the letter inside the book he had been reading.

Anna entered the servants' hall looking tired but not unhappy. "Could you help me with something, Mr Bates?" She asked, taking a seat next to him.

He put his book aside. "Of course."

"It's this address." She pushed a piece of paper in front of him. "Lady Edith's perfume is almost finished and she'd asked me to get her a new bottle this afternoon. Only... I don't really know where this place is."

He took the paper in his fingers. Was it possible that he could really be this lucky? Would he dare?

"Well, this is near Tottenham Court Road."

"That's what Lady Edith said."

"But from there it could be a little tricky. You could take the bus, and then walk for a bit... or," he just had to do it. This sort opportunity might not present itself ever again. "Or I could accompany you."

"Really? But isn't this your free afternoon. Don't you have plans?"

Mr Bates shrugged, sure that the museum would still be there for another century or more. "I was going to walk around anyway," he lied. "Get myself some things. I could very well take you there and carry on with my errands."

"Would you?" The way she smiled at him then was more than enough, let alone considering the perspective of spending some real time with her. Just the two of them.

They met after luncheon. Bates waited for her at the back door and barely suppressed a sigh of content when she arrived, having changed from her uniform, and smiled at him.

"This is so very kind of you," she said.

"Nonsense. I shall enjoy it."

Without deciding it out loud, they started to walk instead of taking the bus. Not for the first time Bates wondered if it coasted her effort, or if it was annoying, to adjust her usually quick steps to his slow, heavy limp. He would not ask her, though. It would feel a lot like casting a shadow on themselves.

While they were talking about the family and what had happened in both houses during the time they had been apart, he was sure Anna was committing the road to memory. Her bright eyes were darting from one street to the other, from one house to the next, glancing at the signs in the corners.

"But you've been in London before," he remarked at one point.

"I have, but I've never had much time to go about. This is my very first errand."

"Is that so?" he chuckled.

"There's no need to be all sophisticated on me, Mr Bates," she scolded, but she was grinning and he knew her enough for not to take it seriously. "Not all of us have had the chance to live here."

He shrugged. "I didn't really like living here, to be honest."

"And yet, there's something about London that suits you." He looked for any sign that she might be joking, but there was none.

"How come?"

"For a start, you seem to be on a very good mood," she finished.

"Am I not always?" He chuckled. Was it so evident?

"Not really," Anna said. "You're not exactly grumpy, mind you." Her eyes were bright with mirth and he could not help but mirror her smile.

"Well... I just may have gotten some news. Good ones. Trust me, if I am in a good mood it has nothing to do with London."

She smiled but did not replied.

"What about you?" He spoke again. "Don't you see yourself living the fancy city life?"

"Me? No…" she said thoughtfully. "I don't think I would like it very much." She looked around again, as he pointed towards an intersection. "Still, for a fortnight it's quite enjoyable."

They kept on talking all the way to the shop. She mentioned her hopes of becoming a lady's maid. He said how much he liked his position only because it felt strange to let her do all the talking. If she had wanted to ask more questions, he could not tell, but he was glad she did not. He would interrupt their conversation from time to time to point out a particular building or landmark.

"How far are we from Kensington Gardens?" she asked at some point.

"Not terribly far. You could walk there from here, although it's a tad tiresome."

"I'd like to go there on my free afternoon," she said with a wistful smile.

"When is that?" He asked, suddenly feeling his mouth very dry.

"Next Thursday."

If he wanted to speak, he had to do it quickly. It would not be terribly difficult or strange, would it?. Just unusual. And she seemed to be enjoying this walk so, what was keeping him from-?

"Would you like some company? That is, if his Lordship doesn't need me that afternoon."

She beamed and looked at him, her eyes sparkling. Not for the first time he felt he could stare at those eyes forever. "That would be lovely," she said.

The next moment she was looking at the tips of her shoes. From his higher point of view, Bates noticed she had blushed. What a beautiful sight.


	22. The Walk

"Are you looking forward to go home?" Lady Mary asked, sitting on a low chair and looking through the window to the cars and carriages passing by.

"I think I am, m'lady," Anna said, without pausing the careful packing of new clothes the girls had bought during the season. It was not entirely true, though. She wanted to go to Yorkshire, all right. Her heart missed the seemingly unending green, the slower atmosphere... but she was acutely aware that, once there, her duties as housemaid would return. Even though the girls would not need as much attention as they did in London, it would be considerably more work and less free time. "Although I enjoyed being here. Very much." She added.

"I'm glad," Lady Mary said, standing up and looking at Anna's packing. "No. Leave that one outside. We'll take it with the others the day after tomorrow; I might want to put it on tonight."

Anna stopped herself to roll her eyes but only just. After a day of packing and organising, she just wished the girls would settle with two frocks and allow her to send the rest to Yorkshire in the morning train next day with Mr Carson. As it was, she was sure there will be unending packaging even the day of their departure.

"Are you going to see Mr Stevens tonight?" Anna asked, trying to distract Lady Mary's attention off the dresses, in case she would change her mind again. She had met young Mr Stevens at the beginning of the season and they seemed to be having a lot of fun together by the time Anna got to London. The last days, however, Anna had heard much less of him.

"I don't think so," Lady Mary shrugged. "We don't seem to have much in common."

Anna nodded sympathetically. She had heard that phrase before and she had come to understand it meant that the beau in question had found out about Lady Mary not being a heir to Downton Abbey and, therefore, suddenly becoming a much less interesting prospect. Anna felt quite sorry for her, although she did her best to hide it.

Did Lady Mary ever wished she could just talk to somebody and get to know him without money or position having to play a role on it? Anna's mind wandered, as it often did these days, to that last walk she had had, accompanied by Mr Bates. They had talked about themselves and the world in general, easily jumping from one subject to the other; it had been just about them.

However, Lady Mary seemed to have an advantage over her. Her suitors seem to be quite straightforward in their intentions or lack thereof. Whereas Mr Bates... Anna was not even sure if he was to be considered a suitor, even if just inside her mind.

Since the moment he had asked her to accompany for a walk in her free afternoon, a colony of butterflies seemed to have taken residence in her stomach. Although, if she was to be honest, said colony was not a new thing. Only, it seemed to be much more active here in London. Was it because the house was much smaller, or because she was not friends with the local maids as she was with Gwen, the fact remained that she seemed to be spending a lot more time with Mr Bates. And the consequences were unsettling, to say the least.

Anna had not wanted to keep much of her hopes up, though, so she had almost expected his Lordship would not be able to spare Mr Bates that afternoon. It was not his free day. She had even rehearsed the rather nonchalant tone with which she would tell him it was all right, even though she would be lying.

It had not been necessary. Smiling, he had told her, two days after their excursion to Tottenham Court Road, that he would be able to accompany her to Kensington after all.

"That is, if you'd like my company. I'd understand if you'd rather go on your own."

"Don't be silly," she had said, beaming, "of course I'd like your company!"

Why had he wanted to go with her in the first place? It was a question that seemed to have an easy answer, and yet somehow it never was exactly easy with Mr Bates. As Anna continued her mechanic task, carefully wrapping the dresses in brown paper and putting them in labelled trunks, she pondered about the different possible answers.

He liked her company, that much was clear. And, he liked London, despite what he had said. So, it would be logical to volunteer for a stroll around town. That was a satisfactory enough explanation, although it did not cover some other things, so very imprecise Anna had difficulties putting her finger on what it was.

Small things, details, shared laughter, the twinkling of his eyes, the way they would look for hers in a crowded room. Was that enough to think about Mr Bates as more than a friend?

She shook her head. She was being silly. Behaving like one of the younger maids whenever a footman or a hall boy would ask any of them to walk with them back from church. And what would come from that? What was to happen, if it turned out Mr Bates was not keen on her at all?

"I always pictured London as a grey place, but here everything is so colourful it makes me think I might have been mistaken my whole life," she had said, looking up at the blue sky, and then down at its reflection on the water, where a group of ducks were slowly swimming.

"It is grey, mostly," Mr Bates had said. "Winter seems to last forever, and you can count on rain, or fog, or just cloudy days for weeks at a time."

Anna had sighed. "Difficult to imagine it, though, when everything looks so nice now." She had stopped, facing the water, and he had stood right next to her.

"There's a lot hidden, even beneath the nicest of surfaces."

He had been doing it again. Those cryptic statements that left her wondering if he was talking about something else entirely or if he just fancied himself a philosopher of sorts.

"And isn't that what makes it all the more interesting?" she had retorted, almost challenging.

He had chuckled and she had looked up into his eyes. She liked it very much when there were wrinkles around them, making the smile somewhat more genuine.

Without another word, he had extended his left arm a little. It had taken her a moment to understand the gesture; it had been awhile since the last time. Her heart had beaten madly, and her own arm had felt unsure as she had placed her hand on the crook of his elbow.

He had sighed, his smile still on his lips, and gently, he had tugged a little so they could continue their walk. Their arms had remained linked the rest of the afternoon; their bodies, brushing with every step; Anna's heart, beating madly.


	23. The Question

**AN: Than you all, very very much! I had this chapter written for a while and was wondering where could it fit. I think here, right before episode 5 could do the trick.**

* * *

The walk back from church was especially enjoyable, the air full of the smells of harvest, the trees starting to change colours. The rest were walking in front of them, much quicker; not Anna, though. They have made a habit out of walking together. Sometimes he was even glad his pace was a tad slower: it gave them a couple more minutes to talk, to enjoy the walk.

The last of the group were Thomas and O'Brien, talking and gesturing in hushed tones. He could not help but feel uneasy at their conspiratorial demeanour. Maybe he was being paranoid, but there it was.

"Can I ask you something?" he spoke without really thinking.

"You just have." Anna said with a cheeky grin.

Bates chuckled. "Something else, then. I want your opinion on a situation." Yes, he decided. She was sharp, and had been there much longer than he had. And her opinions were always interesting, whether they were about the news, the family, or how to remove an impossible stain off something.

She nodded, patiently waiting, as he struggled to put together the right words. He did not want to sound as if he had given the matters much thought.

"I really don't know if I'm just being stupid." Anna made an impatient sound, but he went on. "I know I'm not usually terribly friendly, and I understand Thomas' reason for disliking me. He was after my job and later on I have actually confronted him-"

"Really? When?"

Bates remembered a second later he had not told her this small piece of information. "Weeks ago. It was because he's always bullying William. Needless to say, it was useless."

She looked at him, a spark in her eyes. "Did you spoke to him?"

"Not just that," it seemed as if she was impressed, but Bates was not sure if confessing the whole of it would put him in a very good light, or if it would be just admitting how violent he could be. Which maybe would be a good thing, considering part of him wanted her to stop being interested in him. "I might have threatened him a bit," he finally said. "While having him pushed against the wall." There it was. Now she could just recoil in fright and it all would be over.

"That's- I never would've thought you would. Although it makes sense," she spoke softly. No, of course she would not recoil at something like that. Bates wondered for a second if there was anything in the word that would cause that effect on Anna. "William is fortunate to have you on his side," she added.

Bates shrugged, not sure if he should be pleased. "But still," he continued, "and even before that, don't you think those two are just being too nasty about it?"

Anna's eyes were lost somewhere, and she looked miles from them. "What O'Brien did to you is more than nasty."

"I don't know what you mean," Mr Bates said mechanically, looking to the house still a good distance in front of them. He would just refuse to accuse her, even though he knew she had kicked his cane on that occasion. He would not even acknowledge that to her. But Anna knew. She had known then, when she had helped him stand up, and she had not forgotten.

"Of course you don't." Anna prompted, and he could not help feeling slightly amused at her.

"At any rate, why? Mr Carson told me Lord Grantham wouldn't take Thomas as a valet. That's why he hired me. He must know that."

Anna shrugged. "Not really. I mean, maybe His Lordship wouldn't want Thomas then, but if time passed and he didn't find a suitable valet, he might have taken him anyway."

Mr Bates sighed. "You're right."

They did not speak for a moment, yet he had the feeling the conversation was not over. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Anna frowning slightly. "When was the last time your served, before coming to Downton?" she finally asked.

"The war." He wondered where she was heading.

"No, I mean, being employed in a house."

"Oh," Mr Bates frowned. "Many years ago. Before joining the army." He had been a footman, and before that, a hall boy.

Anna smiled. "So, you've forgotten, then."

"What have I forgotten?" he almost snapped. He prided himself on a work well done, and hated the thought of she thinking he was not really good enough.

She was almost smirking, her eyes sparkling, and he felt rather stupid.

"Well, it's not just about the work, is it?" She said. "Or the money."

"Isn't it?"

"What I mean to say is, of course it is, but not just that. There's also… well, I guess you could say it's all about information. You have a better job and you're better paid, but that's not just it. You hear things, you talk to His Lordship… and worse of all, you don't rush downstairs to tell us all about it."

"I certainly would not-" The sole idea was outrageous. Even though he was the Earl of Grantham, Bates felt that his relationship with His Lordship sometimes went beyond that of a servant and his master, and closer to that of friends.

"I know you wouldn't!" she said hastily, still smiling at him. "But that's it, isn't it? You have the job he wants, you don't give him the information he wants… you know, being a butler or a housekeeper is all very nice, but the best jobs are those of the valet and the lady's maid. At least, I reckon that's what Thomas thinks."

"Because of gossip?" he spoke much slower now. How could he have forgotten about this piece of information? It seemed news to him, but in fact, it was old as time.

"Because of gossip, yes. If you'd know what Her Ladyship is thinking, and if you know Lord Grantham's side to it… well, you know it all. And I'm sure that's what Thomas wants. He already has O'Brien, listening and talking to Her Ladyship."

Mr Bates was nodding. It felt a little strange to have all of this explained by Anna, as if it was an assumed fact. She was much younger than he was, but sometimes he had the impression she was wise beyond her years.

"I supposed the military is very different," she said.

"The funny thing is… no, it's not that very different," he answered with a chuckle.

"There you are, then," Anna smiled.

They were approaching the house now, none of the servants was on sight.

"And what about your job?" Bates spoke again, interested on the complexity of the idea of information trade.

"Mine?"

"You hear gossip from the three girls."

Anna chuckled. "More than enough to drive anybody insane, sometimes."

"So why are they not after you?"

"Who says they're not?" she prompted, and he laughed. "Well, I don't really get a lot of important stuff from them. It's mostly fashion, Lady What's-Her-Name awful new hat, the son of Lord Whatever going after Lady Mary; it's not that important."

"And you come down and tell us," he spoke quietly. Did he imagine it or she had almost frozen on the spot? He had not exactly meant anything by that, other to tease her. She was not like that at all, both of them knew.

She was much smarter than he, now he realised it; she would tell stuff downstairs, enough to make it look important and abundant, but not all.

"I do," she said, and the cheerfulness in her voice felt somewhat forced. "And I know you can't wait to hear what Lady Edith thinks about Mrs Crawley's new frock."

Mr Bates chuckled and she joined in. "You don't tell all of it, though," he decided to let her know he had noticed.

"No," she looked at him straight in the eyes, and for a moment it felt as a challenge. "There are some things I am not supposed to tell."

He nodded with a small smile.

"Besides," she added after a moment, "I know you wouldn't gossip about Lord Grantham. You'd think it's not honourable, and I quite agree."

He nodded, thoughtfully. "So, my situation won't improve."

"I don't think so," she said softly. They had reached the kitchen door.

"Well, I'm happy there's you," he said before allowing himself to think if it was, indeed, the right thing to say.


	24. The Thought

There was not much time. The bedrooms were finished, as well as the rooms upstairs. Tea had been served and in no time they would be calling them to change and get everybody ready for dinner. If there was a moment during the day in which she could take a couple of minutes for herself, this was it. Gwen would not ask, or if that was the case, Anna could always say she was feeling a tad under the weather, just as the younger maid.

Having made her mind, she climbed up the stairs quickly. Her mind had been buzzing during the whole day, she could genuinely claim to have a headache. Who could blame her, except that nobody should know what the reason was for it.

Or who.

Finally arriving into the quiet, empty corridor, she sighed, almost relieved. The rest of the maids would be up soon, and she did not want to be seen. Silently, in case Gwen was sleeping, she opened the door of their bedroom. It was empty.

All those very distracting thoughts that had been gnawing at her since morning seemed to dissolve for a moment. She looked around. The small room looked exactly as it had when she and Gwen had vacated it in the morning. Not a thing out of place, except for the fact that Gwen should have been there, lying in bed, ill.

Anna huffed. _She wouldn't_. But then… she had been strangely distracted the night before. Smiling to herself. Evasive when Anna had asked her what the matter was.

"Whatever it is you are doing right now, I do hope for your own sake nobody finds out," Anna spoke to the empty bed.

And yet, she was relieved to be alone. She did not want so have to answer questions, especially because she was not even sure what the matter was. Besides an imprecise heaviness in her head and something not quite right… as if she was not comfortable in her own skin.

With a groan she sat on the bed and pressed her palms to her eyes. What was the matter with her, talking about unrequited love with Mr Bates, almost as if she was a silly girl who had read one too many novels? What had she been trying to do? Elicit an answer from him?

She had achieved that, all right, after looking like a fool in front of him.

Still, it was not fair. She had thought-

With another groan, Anna let herself drop on the bed. There was a crack in the ceiling, she had noticed it ages ago, but now it seemed to be the most fascinating view on Earth.

She had thought things would be different when they got back to London. After all the time together, after all those conversations, and walks, and glances, and smiles, she had thought he would do something. What that something was, she was not entirely sure, and the crack was not being very helpful.

No. There was no point on kidding herself. She knew exactly what she had expected him to do, in London, here, afterwards, at some point. Her hand still remembered the feeling if his coat, the muscles of his arm underneath it as they walked down Kensington Gardens. She had been very silly, now she realised it, but at some point that afternoon she had hoped he would say something, or do something.

Then she had forced herself to think of new scenarios. Mr Bates was always proper and respectful. He would wait for a right moment, he would want to say the right thing and to do the right thing, and maybe a stroll down London was not the ideal setting.

But the days kept on passing, and Anna had realised they were in a point where it seemed they would just stay being the best of friends and nothing more.

Anna had wished that would be enough for her. She had forced herself to believe it was. After all, she was much better now that he was at Downton. He was a great friend, somebody she liked to talk to, or laugh with when they were both in the mood. That was much better than nothing. So, after the first disappointed days back, she had almost convinced herself it was for the best, and so she had resumed the comradeship, enjoying it truthfully, while ignoring that strange feeling in her guts that would make her dream awake sometimes.

She would have gotten used to it. She was strong that way, or stubborn, or whatever.

If only… if only he would keep his mouth shut.

Anna jumped off the bed and started pacing, her confusion turning into anger. _Either you say something or you don't. There's no mid-point._

The memory that had almost burned her during the day replayed again in her head, as it had on and off for hours now.

"Perhaps, Mr Patrick did love her back, he just couldn't say it." He had spoken slowly, clearly weighing each of his words.

"Why ever not?" It had taken her ages to mutter, her voice weak.

"Sometimes we're not at a liberty to speak," he had said then. "Sometimes it wouldn't be right."

And then he had left there, standing at the threshold of Lady Edith's room. What was it that he had tried to say between all those words? Was he just talking about Mr Patrick? About life in general? About them, he and Anna?

Anna stopped her pacing and looked out the small high window. Whatever he had tried to say would have to wait. It was dark outside, she would better get a move on and change before Mr Carson would ring the gong.

As she fixed her cap, though, Anna wondered if she would ever sum up the courage to speak to him properly. To make him say what was on his mind, straightforward and no cryptic statements. Well, she sighed, closing the door at her back and heading to the stairs, that would be the easy part. What she doubted was if she had the courage to be openly rejected.


	25. The Unknown

_Address unknown. Return to sender._

Five words. Five words that meant that he was exactly where he had been months ago, that night he had decided to look for her, to do whatever was in his power and find his wife, and finally get that long overdue divorce.

The last hope he had, had failed. He had no idea where to find her, and he had exhausted all the possibilities: addresses, friends, acquaintances. When the strange idea stuck him, while being in London, he had even checked the dead registers for her name, even though he knew it would be fruitless. If she was still using his name, and he very much suspected she was, he was obviously her next in kin. He would have known if Vera had died.

And what made the situation even worse, during those weeks when he had thought he would finally reach his elusive wife, he had dared to hope. He had even allowed himself to truly enjoy Anna's company. He had dreamed, and wished, and even acted upon his feelings. It had all been for nothing. He was not a free man and he was not worthy of her attentions. That small warm feeling had now been replaced with stone cold void.

Bates had adverted Anna's eyes during breakfast, from the moment Mr Carson had put the envelope in his hand and he had had a glimpse of the official-looking handwriting.

Later on, though, he could not avoid her any further. Out of habitude, or that very strange need he felt lately of being next to her, of helping her if possible, had made him enter Lady Edith's room. He had heard Daisy mention Gwen was not feeling well, which meant Anna would we working on her own. An extra hand would not harm, would it?

So they had chatted, as they always did, him trying to convince himself that it was all friendly and innocent. That there was no way in the world a fine woman like Anna would be interested in him. That he had been, thankfully, mistaken.

Only, he had not.

"It's always sad when you love somebody who doesn't love you back. No matter who you are." Her blue eyes had been fixed on his, and it had taken him a long moment to recover. She had been pale, standing with pride, even a hint of challenge in her tone.

And he had been a coward. "No, I meant it's sad that he died." It was the truth, but it also was a way to escape her attempt at getting it out in the open, that unreasonable feeling that had been steadily growing between them.

"Oh. Yes." She had been taken aback, and her eyes had not met his. "Very sad. He was nice." She had grabbed the discarded linens and used candle and had headed to the door. "Well, thank you for that. Much appreciated."

He had been about to let her pass, holding the door open for her. "My pleasure." But he could not. He needed her to know. Only, it was so very difficult to talk about something that had not yet been acknowledged. "Perhaps," he started slowly, "Mr Patrick did love her back," he had looked at her, standing so close to him he could have cupped her face by only moving his hand a couple of inches. A wave of her scent had made him go even further. "He just couldn't say it."

"Why ever not?" There it was, that challenging tone again.

"Sometimes we're not at a liberty to speak." _Please, Anna, understand this. It's not that I don't want to._ "Sometimes it wouldn't be right."

It had been too much, for him, for her, and feeling like an utter fool, he had left the room before her, brushing against her ever so lightly. As he had walked down the hall, he had strained his ears for the sound of her hurried steps, but he had heard none. She had stood there, he could not tell for how long.

Now, to make matters worse, a snuff box had gone missing from His Lordship's changing room. Lord Grantham had mentioned it to Bates, good natured as ever, yet preoccupied, and it had been for Bates a too familiar and terrible uncomfortable feeling.

There was nothing worse than being a thief. Even the suspicion could ruin anybody. Only for him it would be so much worse.

Never mind Vera. He alone had secrets too dark to confess, secrets that, no matter how optimistic Anna was, would mean a change in their relationship. Or the end of it altogether.

And wouldn't that be best?

Of course it would. Only, he wished it would all be different. If he was not to be free, and Anna and him were not meant to be, he wished at least for her to consider him a friend. An honourable man.

With a groan full of anger he crumpled the piece of paper and threw it forcefully into the fireplace. It gave him the smallest pleasure to see the flames licking the paper. Consuming the so very distressing words.

He had achieved nothing.

* * *

 **AN: During these few chapters sometimes seems Bates does something that takes him closer to Anna, just to do exactly the opposite afterwards. This is an explanation.**

 **Thanks very much for all your support. Only 2 chapters to go!**

 **Cheers!**


	26. The Theft

It had all made sense, and Anna had almost hit her forehead in annoyance. Of course it had been them, and she had been such a fool not to see it immediately.

"I wouldn't be Mr Bates. Not for all the tea in China," he had said, with that drawling voice she hated so much.

"Wouldn't you, Thomas," she had snapped, entering the kitchen right behind him, in time to hear this last remark of him. "I dare say he feels just the same about you." And then she had turned around just in time to see O'Brien and him exchanging a smirk. "What's the matter with you?" the snap had been directed to the Ladies' maid this time.

"Nothing," she had replied, ever so calm.

Anna was not. She had been edgy since the day before, when Mr Bates had dropped yet another cryptic statement when he had been helping her. And Mr Carson's announcement of the missing of the snuff box had made it all worse. He had looked directly at Mr Bates when he had spoken, and a moment later O'Brien and Thomas had pointed out the obvious, as if it was necessary. Mr Bates was the only one who ever got into His Lordship's changing room.

That was the thing though. It was too obvious. Too neat. But she had been just as stupid.

And he too, now that she was thinking of it. Hadn't she and Mr Bates talked about how Thomas and O'Brien were after him, not long ago? He was well aware of that. Was it possible that, being honourable as he was, he could not imagine people playing dirty and doing whatever was possible to achieve their goals?

She shook her head in exasperation as she helped carrying stuff downstairs from the now empty dining room. Well, she knew now, and she was going to do something about it.

Mrs Patmore predicament distracted her of the issue for a brief moment, until Mr Bates himself made her remember, walking with her out of the kitchen. They had to act quickly, before that search announced by Thomas would be carried on by Mr Carson.

"Can I talk to you?" she said, once everybody scattered about.

"Of course." Mr Bates looked worried, tired, even his eyes seemed to have lost a tad of life.

She had walked down the corridor and both stood to a halt in front of Mr Carson's pantry. He was busy, talking to Mrs Patmore. They would not be interrupted, at least for a moment.

"I think I know where that snuff box is," she said, without preamble. His eyes were wide, and he even bent closer to her.

"Where?"

"Hidden in your room."

He frowned. "You don't think-"

It would have been endearing if it wasn't exasperating as well. "'Course I don't," she hastened to say, "you silly beggar," she added that last part without thinking, an endearment of sorts. What she really wanted was to hug him and tell him that, yes, he was being silly, but that everything would be all right.

"Then?" he looked thoroughly puzzled.

"I bet Thomas'd like it, if they took you for a thief.

Finally he understood, his eyes widened with comprehension. "Yes, I expect he would."

"Go upstairs now and find it," she said, unable to hide her smile any longer. "And when you have, you can choose whether to put it in Thomas' room or give it to me, and I'll slip it into Miss O'Brien's."

"You naughty girl," he said, and the way he was looking at her made her blush.

"Fight fire with fire," she hastened to say. That's what my mum says."

Mr Bates nodded, and both left in opposite directions.

She met him again shortly after, as she was climbing down the stairs to have dinner with the last tray of glasses. Thomas was right in front of her and she did not dare speak in front of him. There was no need, though. Mr Bates' eyes were eloquent, and just in case that was not enough, he whispered the moment she passed in front of him.

"You were right."

The warmth of his breath in her ear almost made her lose balance, and she focused on Thomas' retreating back to gain some composure. She waited for a moment, just in case he wanted to slip her the box, but as he did not move, she climbed down the stairs herself.

They met again in the servants' hall, much later, after Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes had finished with the search. She had been convinced the snuff box would appear in Thomas' room, and it was with not small amount of anticipation that she had been trying to listen to what was going on at the other side of the door separating the men's quarters from the women's. There was nothing. Not a yell, or a plea, or wild denial. I was odd.

She did enjoy, though, the moment Mrs Hughes entered Miss O'Brien's room, to find it in an absolute state of chaos. Well, at least she had been frightened all right.

But she had wanted to know, so, hoping he would have the same idea as she, and making a feeble excuse to Gwen, Anna went down to find Mr Bates sitting at his usual spot, a two steaming cups of tea and a book in front of him. He looked up the moment she entered.

"I was wondering if you would come down," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I wouldn't have been able to go to bed without knowing," she said, sitting next to him. "So?"

"So?"

She groaned impatiently. "Did you find it?"

"Of course I did. They did not even try much, I could have find it accidentally."

"Really?"

"Well, almost," he said, pushing the second cup of tea towards her. She smiled.

"And where did you hide it?"

"I… didn't," he sighed. "I took it back to His Lordship's room and dropped it behind a curtain. I expect it will be found tomorrow. And, if not, I'll pretend to find it myself."

"What?" Anna was speechless, the hand holding the cup frozen in mid-air.

He held her gaze for a moment. "I didn't." He shrugged, and took a large sip from his tea.

It took Anna a long moment to put down her cup again. "Why ever not?"

He considered his answer for a moment. "Being a thief is very serious. Enough to ruin somebody's career. Even their life. I don't want to be the cause of that."

She sighed. Of course he had to be noble. The better man. Still, she could not help insisting.

"You wouldn't. They are the ones who stole in the first place." Mr Bates shrugged again, and she could not help but smile. "You silly man. Do you realise you just had the opportunity of getting rid of Thomas for good and you let it slip?"

"Don't put it like that, or you'll force me to climb back up and retrieve that snuff box." His eyes were sparkling with the joke, he seemed at peace.

"I can do it for you," she offered.

"Next time, perhaps."


	27. The Confession

There was no point on keeping fooling himself into believing his intentions had been just friendly. He had been flirting with her all right. And there was no point pretending he had not realised she had been flirting back all along.

All his carefully crafted excuses, all his repeating there was nothing a girl like her could see in an old man like him, crumbled, sounding empty and pointless inside his head.

"I love you, Mr Bates."

His heart seemed to burst with joy. Anna loved him and he felt complete for the first time in so long. Maybe ever. But it was all so very wrong, and he had been weak, allowing it all to happen. Knowing that he was not entitled to have her.

In a different life, in a different world, he would have held her hand right then and there, oblivious to the fact that it was a very public road. He would have pulled her closer, gently, and his lips would have met hers. Or even better, he would not have been the coward he had turned out to be lately, and he would have spoken to her so much earlier. In London, or during one of their walks back from church. He would have walked even slower than usual on purpose, and he knew she would have matched his steps. Until, finally, none of the other servants walking in front of them would be on sight. And he would have stopped, and talked to her, explained to her how she was the last thing he thought about before falling asleep, and his first thought in the morning. How he yearned to hear her voice every day, and just look at her, or be with her whenever possible.

He would have bent on one knee, then, a free man in his proudest moment, asking her to do him the honour of promising she would be his wife.

As he rode away from her, awkwardly perched on the back of the cart, he could not believe it was possible to feel so miserable during the happiest moment of his life. She loved him. Anna Smith, walking right in front of him, loved him. Somehow he had been declared worthy of this most special of gifts. Only he did not deserve it.

His eyes could not leave her. She was walking briskly and he appreciated, once more, what a difference she would make for him when they walked together. He had been right when he had implied he had been slowing her down, in more than one sense.

She, on the other hand, was not looking at him. Who could blame her? Her eyes were fixed on the road, probably taking deep, steady breaths. Stealing herself for what would come next, the way she would always do whenever something was proving to be a test to her.

Only, she had looked at him, right before the cart resumed his way. Her eyes had been bright with unshed tears, but she had held his gaze, and he thought he had seen both pity and a challenge. Now she wasn't looking.

Walking under the canopy of trees, the light on the leaves casting shadows on her, she was the most beautiful creature on earth. And despite she had given her heart, he had absolutely nothing to offer back.

* * *

She had been too absorbed in her own thoughts, and in the strange combination of embarrassment and pride at her declaration, she had not noticed she was now standing next to Mr Bates, both facing the stage where the Dowager Countess was announcing the winners of the flower show.

Just as well, Anna thought. They had always walked together, sat together, talked together. Even if her cheeks were burning now, she was not going to move. Almost as if he had heard his thoughts, Mr Bates glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

She was not going to do that. There would be time later to think it all over, many times probably, to decide if it has been a rebuff or not, to be properly embarrassed, or angry, or something. Now it was sensible to just be part of the show and try to put him in the back of his head.

She succeeded, managing to be genuinely happy at Mr Molesley's triumph. Mr Bates not. A frown had replaced his blank expression, and it was with no enthusiasm that he joined in the round of applause.

She noticed, as she noticed his every move and gesture. She was tuned to him; they had been like that for a long while now. Anna's smile was not just about the flowers now. Whatever the outcome, he was not indifferent. She has seen it in his eyes, in his voice, in the way he didn't take his eyes off her while he was driving away. For once, it seemed, that carefully placed façade of his was crumbling.

Feeble as it was, it gave Anna hope.

* * *

 **AN:** **This ends here, and I think it's a beautiful moment in the series. His not confessing is a confession itself, and leaves room for so much afterwards.**

 **Thank you all very very much for your support. To all guest reviewers I couldn't get in touch with, extra special thanks! You are fantastic!**


End file.
